The Paths We Choose (And Those We Don't)
by ChristianGateFan
Summary: Finding one's soulmate should be life's crowning achievement. It isn't supposed to cause something akin to a tragedy. It isn't supposed to break someone else's heart: The story of three men who cared about each other, and the one of them who wasn't supposed to love at all but loved too fiercely, instead. Kirk/Spock & Spock/McCoy
1. Chapter 1

So...when I got back into Star Trek seriously and started writing fic I promised myself I wouldn't write slash like I ended up doing for XMFC. *snort* Yeah, that lasted. And I love Kirk and Spock as much as anyone, but I also love McCoy, but I don't do threesomes. So...therefore this came from somewhere in my brain, and for those of you who are firmly Spirk, well, that's in here, but I do have to warn you that though both pairings are included this is probably going to lean in the Spock/McCoy direction. Because they're just adorable in their argumentative way, I guess. I don't know. I just love them. Basically i noticed all of the very touchy-feeling stuff and serious emotion going on with Spock concerning McCoy in certain season 3 episodes when the good doctor was in danger or hurt or etc (_For the World is Hollow and I Have Touched the Sky_, _The Empath_, etc) and I just _had_ to explain it and a few other things. Therefore, again, this fic. Please bear with me, and please do let me know if you like it! Thanks so much! Couldn't do any of this without you guys! :)

Sorry about the long title. Couldn't downsize it this time; nothing else worked at well. :P

Movies/episodes referenced in this chapter are: _ST II:The Wrath of Khan_, _Miri_, _Shore Leave_, & _The Galileo Seven_, in that order.

* * *

The Paths We Choose (And Those We Don't)

Chapter 1

McCoy wasn't sure he was really awake, as he walked back to his quarters after the funeral service. It all seemed incredibly unreal. He was alone, and he wasn't sure whether or not he really wanted to be. Jim wanted to be, that much he had made clear, but McCoy wasn't sure he believed him any more than he knew how he felt himself.

Spock was dead. The one of them that was supposed to live the longest, that was always supposed to be there…it didn't make any sense.

He rubbed at his right temple and cheek, not quite sure why he was doing that, either. The door to his quarters slid open, but he paused. Down the corridor were the captain's quarters—Jim and Spock's quarters. Jim was nowhere in sight, so either Jim had beat him back here in his haze, or Jim was taking his time. Maybe he'd retreated to the recreation deck.

McCoy sighed heavily and trudged into his room. The doors slid closed behind him with their hiss, and he didn't know what to do with himself. In the two days since Spock's death there had plenty enough of injuries to treat, even a surgery or two to perform, and then preparations for the funerals and memorial services. Spock had not been the only loss on this disastrous of unexpected missions; his was simply the service that had drawn the largest crowd. McCoy didn't think there was a crewman aboard who hadn't been there.

And of course, Spock's was the loss that was leaving him unbalanced. Spock was the one he had known. That he'd cared about.

And Jim. God. Leonard didn't know what he was supposed to do for him. Jim had lost his husband, his bondmate of more than a decade…and here he was worrying about himself.

The doctor looked blankly around his quarters and realized that it was a mess. Some of that was the beating the _Enterprise_ had taken, things being thrown around he hadn't picked up yet, and some of it was his own negligence since…that day. None of his clothes had ended up in the laundry shoot where they should be, for one thing. Discarded items lay about haphazardly, and that was not at all like him. As a doctor he preferred everything neat and tidy and _organized_. Not the organized chaos that Jim preferred.

Organization had been one of the few things McCoy and Spock always agreed upon.

_Damnit. _He was blinking away tears again at that, and that wasn't like him either, and he needed to _do_ something. So fine. He'd clean up.

That didn't work well either. The first pile of clothing on the floor he came to was the medical uniform he'd been wearing the day Khan tried to destroy them. The day Spock died.

McCoy tried not to think about it. He picked the uniform up anyway, but a soft thump on the ground distracted him. He'd felt a tug in his hands and realized that something must have fallen out of a pocket of the discarded clothing. The uniform still in his hands, he glanced down at the floor to locate whatever it was. Much of that day was a blur; he didn't remember what he would have had in his pocket.

He didn't even consider that he would discover what he actually found there—what had rolled up against his shoes and stopped there.

Leonard frowned and set the clothing down on the nearby desk chair, and bent down to pick up what was at his feet.

It was one of Spock's small IDIC medallions. As important a symbol as it was for Vulcans, he had…he'd _had_…more than one, and besides the fact that McCoy didn't know how it had gotten there he didn't understand why a strange feeling went through him when he saw this one.

As for how it had gotten there…

Spock must have been carrying it. Sometimes he wore them and sometimes he simply carried one, in a pocket. It was perhaps the only sort of nostalgia deemed acceptable for a Vulcan—not that Spock had given a damn what other Vulcans thought of him anymore, marrying Jim and such. Leonard supposed he must have seen this one often enough before that it sent that shiver through him. Memory. Faint pain and not-so-faint.

McCoy ran his thumb over the small medal medallion, and there he went blinking tears away again. Damn, getting sentimental in his old age…though maybe he had a right to right now. Because it had to have been deliberate. There wasn't any way the thing would've gotten all the way into his own pocket without premeditation. When Spock knocked him out with that blasted nerve pinch he must have slipped it there.

Why, McCoy couldn't begin to fathom. But for whatever reason it was an extremely emotional thing for a Vulcan to do, married to a human or not.

Still, there was something more in what he was feeling, looking at the thing, than just the sadness and other feelings he would have expected at realizing that Spock had chosen to give him this because he knew he was going to die and it was the only thing he had on him at the time.

There was something _else_, something that chewed at his insides, and…and…

He stared at it, and he stared at his fingers tracing the shapes…the circle and triangle together, coexisting...Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations...and…

And then it was like a dam in his mind broke with violent force, and McCoy dropped to his knees with a pained gasp because he _knew_. He remembered what he hadn't remembered before.

"Spock…!"

* * *

He'd been alone long enough, Jim thought. Most of the day. It was getting late, and he was being selfish cooped up like this. He'd spent long enough curled in their bed, wishing he could feel Spock next to him. He had to get out of this cabin.

Maybe it felt like his soul was splitting in half, but he wasn't the only one hurting.

He punched the comm, calling down to McCoy's quarters to find out if his friend was still awake. "Bones?"

There wasn't any answer, but for some reason he felt uneasy about it. He pushed his feet back into his shoes and made his way down the corridor. He didn't get an answer at the door to McCoy's quarters, either, but it wasn't locked so he went in, concerned.

It turned out he had good reason to be concerned. He found Bones against the wall on the floor just a few meters inside. One knee was held tightly to his chest, an empty bottle lay beside him, and he'd clearly been crying. The alcohol was usual for him but the tears were not; neither was his defeated position on the floor.

"Bones?" he asked in alarm.

It took a moment for him to look up, and when he did it looked like his head was hurting him more than a little.

"Jim…" It came out hoarse.

Jim swallowed and dropped, not quite easily, to a knee to swing himself around to sit against the wall beside his friend. He didn't really know what to say. Who did?

He didn't know the problem was deeper until McCoy said something.

"Jim, I…god. How am I supposed to tell you this?"

Kirk blinked in confusion and looked at him. "Tell me what?" He only saw now that Bones was clutching something in his hand, and in another moment the doctor was holding it out enough for him to see it, wordlessly. He recognized it, of course. One of Spock's IDIC medallions—one of the small ones he often had in pocket, like a memory coin a human might carry for one reason or another.

"How did you…?"

"It was in the pocket of the uniform I was wearing that day," McCoy sighed. He didn't have to elaborate as to which day he meant. "I just found it. He must've…"

"Right," Jim said quietly. It made sense. Spock had known he would die. Jim had everything of theirs and Spocks in their quarters…plenty to remember him. Bones didn't have those things. It seemed a rather sentimental gesture, even for Spock, but it had its own logic at the same time.

McCoy swallowed. "But that's not…not what I'm talking about, Jim. When I found it, I…somehow I remembered…there were things I'd forgotten." He looked away, as if he weren't really sure where he was going with this.

"Bones, what's wrong?" Beyond the obvious, of course.

McCoy shook his head, changing his mind. "It doesn't matter. It's not important anymore, and you ah…it doesn't matter. You don't need to—it'd probably just make all of this worse," he finished quietly.

"Bones, you're my friend. Just because now isn't the best time for me or you or anyone on the ship, really, doesn't mean I can't listen."

Bones smiled a little at that. He almost laughed once, maybe, but he didn't. "That's why you deserved him...why he deserved you. You're better than me, Jim. Just don't quote me on it later; I'll deny it."

"Well that's the biggest load of crap I've ever heard; no I'm not, Bones. What the hell is wrong with you?" And now the doctor wouldn't look at him again. "Bones?"

The answer, when it came, was barely audible. "I loved him, Jim."

"Of course you did," Jim answered slowly. "We all did."

A slight shake of McCoy's head. "No…I mean I _loved_ him." And he sounded bewildered about it himself.

Jim didn't know what to say to that. He sat, dumbstruck, until Bones finally looked at him again.

"See? Why the devil did you think I didn't want to tell you this now?"

Kirk swallowed. "But…you didn't…you never…"

"I didn't remember," McCoy whispered, grimacing.

"What are you talking about?"

"It's a long story."

Jim sat back again, shaken but not knowing what else to do. "Well it's going to take a while to limp back to Earth…and at the moment I've got all night."

"Really, Jim, you don't have to do this right now. You don't have to do this ever. It's not fair to you. You just lost him; you don't need to hear anything else that might just hurt you. I know that's pretty damn sensitive of me, but excuse me for caring that you're my best friend—"

"Bones, shut up and talk." He tried to smile, and the ghost of one he managed wasn't insincere.

McCoy let out a heavy sigh and sat back himself. "Well you asked for it."

* * *

Nineteen Years Ago

Spock was not certain where it began, or how. Jim Kirk had grown on him easily—an intelligent, capable commander who quickly became a valued comrade and yes, friend. Indeed, after taking command of the Enterprise Jim quickly became the single human that Spock had ever felt closest to, personally. From the beginning being around him was not as difficult as being around other humans could be; from the beginning it was easy.

It was not so easy to get used to Doctor McCoy, when Kirk's old friend took over the position of chief medical officer upon Doctor Piper's retirement. Indeed, Doctor Piper had been much more mild mannered and tolerable. McCoy was…not.

Spock had no choice but to often be around the doctor, as both he and McCoy were often around the captain. They argued most constantly, and Jim seemed to find amusement in it.

But somehow, the doctor had grown on him in his own way. 'Grown on'…quite an illogical human axiom, but it seemed to fit. Where at the beginning the arguments had been somewhat irritating, Spock began to appreciate their intellectual challenges. He began to look forward to the opportunity to outwit McCoy in conversation, and when it grew to this Jim seemed to find it even more amusing than before. That much did not seem as important, but it was not unpleasing.

Spock did not know when it became such that he missed their presence when he did not see them for extended periods of time. Both of them. He seemed to…'miss them' in different ways, and for both it was illogical, all of it, but he wasn't certain what to do about it. Perhaps it didn't matter. If they were feelings, he ignored them anyway.

Jim, his friend; McCoy, his foil…and also a friend. So it became, the three of them friends, and for the first time in his life Spock was…comfortable. He did not mind anymore that he lived mostly among humans. He had an anchor among them in Kirk and McCoy, and as strange and unlikely as it was for humans, they seemed pleased to have him as a friend and companion as well.

So it went, until they found the planet of the Onlies. Now, Jim and McCoy had gotten themselves into trouble before. Spock was not so cold as to not be logically concerned when such events occurred. As first officer, too, it was his duty to protect the captain, or anyone he commanded on a landing party, which sometimes included McCoy, and such as that.

Never before, though, had he directly faced the death of either. Not the way it happened on the planet, when the doctor had taken the possible antidote to the disease they had been exposed to, before the antidote had been tested. At the time their communicators had been stolen by the Onlies—the children who were the only inhabitants left to the planet. They couldn't use the ship's computers for testing. They had little time left before the lot of them—save Spock himself, who was only a carrier—began to die.

McCoy had acted desperately, doing exactly what Spock had implored him not to do due to its danger.

Spock had never known the sort of gut-wrenching feeling that gripped him when he heard the doctor shout his name…when he rushed into the room again to find his friend unconscious on the floor, empty hypospray in hand and likely dying.

But it had worked. The antidote was not poison but cure. They had succeeded and the doctor yet lived.

And Spock could not forget the feeling. He tried, but it was useless. Meditation did not help. Nothing did. The thought that McCoy might have died was a disruption in his very core.

"Your actions were highly illogical, Doctor." He found McCoy in sickbay, in his office. The landing party had all been administered the antidote by now; there were only the reports to write.

"Spock? What are you doing back here? You're fine."

"Yes, Doctor, _I _am fine, but you very well may not have been. You should not have injected yourself as you did. Ten minutes more and the captain would have returned with our communicators. There would have been enough time to have the serum tested."

"Sure, barely." McCoy put his stylus down and peered up at the Vulcan curiously. "Did you really come all the way down here just to scold me?"

"Your actions were in need of reprimand, and as the captain has not yet seen fit to do so—"

"That's not really your job, Spock."

"That is irrelevant. Yours actions were reckless and dangerous whether or not they violated Starfleet regulations. Therefore tis is not an official reprimand, even though it is a needed one."

The doctor studied him for a long time, and then, for some unfathomable reason, he broke into a grin. Spock raised an eyebrow.

"You were worried about me, weren't you?" McCoy chuckled.

"Worry is an emotion, Doctor."

"It sure is."

"I was not 'worried' as you say. Concern and vigilance, in a truly perilous situation, is only logical, and that is all that I experienced. It would not have done for the _Enterprise_ to lose its chief medical officer so early in its five-year mission. Really, Doctor, you must think of persons other than yourself. It would have taken a great deal of trouble to replace you at this juncture."

McCoy only glared at him and 'hmphed' and attempted to go back to his work. Spock stood where he was for a moment, trying to ascertain why he had come here at all.

He told himself the aching in his stomach was only the remaining effects of the antidote, and he went back to his quarters to return to meditation.

It took quite a while before he reached a satisfactory level of it.

It might have all been left at that, too, but life on a starship is by nature perilous. There was always danger, and months later it caught up with the good doctor, particularly, yet again.

Three months. For that long Spock had convinced himself that the internally violent reaction he'd had to McCoy's near death was nothing more than concern for a friend. He had come to care about the doctor's well-being just as much as he did about the captain's, that was all.

Before Jim he had not cared specifically for any human other than his mother, and the…feelings that he harbored—and subsequently ignored as with any possible emotions—for his captain and friend, were all subtle, warm sensations. They were very strong ones, he occasionally realized, but gentle all the same. Easy. As he had thought from the beginning. It was the best word to describe them. His reactions to the doctor were different. Sharper. He did not wish for anything to happen to either of them, but there were differences that he did not understand beyond the fact that they were very different people.

And then they discovered the shore leave planet. On that planet, McCoy died. Or they thought he had. They saw him run through by a spear by a knight on horseback. They saw him fall; he and Jim knelt over his lifeless body…

Humans generally thought that Vulcans were cold, incapable of feelings rather than suppressors of them. They tended to think that Vulcans were empty, dead inside. Spock's friends did not, he knew, but many human believed it and Vulcan society in general did not argue with the assumption. It prevented the pestering and prying into their ways they wished to avoid.

But no, they were not empty. Not dead inside. At least, Spock had never felt so until that moment. It was illogical, and yet…he was not certain what he would have done or how he would have reacted had Jim not been there. They looked at one another, over what they believed to be their friend's corpse, and it was only Jim that anchored him anymore.

In their continued investigation of the planet, in the desperate search for an answer, while they still believe McCoy to be dead, it was difficult. It was not only his stomach that ached, but everything, and _it was not logical_, but it was true. When the fabricated ancient Earth aircraft dived at himself and the captain and fired on them Spock found himself all but clinging to Jim as they ran for cover—clinging to all that remained.

They—he had lost McCoy. He would not lose Jim as well.

But McCoy was not dead. At least not permanently. The proprietors of the amusement planet had taken him underground to heal him, to bring him back to them. They had explained the proper way to make use of the shore leave destination and its technology, and there had been no more injuries. No deaths had truly taken place. The _Enterprise_ crew had greatly enjoyed their leave there after that, once everything had been straightened out.

Spock did not take leave there. He beamed back to the ship immediately, once everything was clear and the doctor had been returned and there was no longer any danger. He could not remain there.

He could not remain and be reminded of what it had been like to see the doctor dead at his feet. It was all emotionalism, of course, and he meditated fervently in attempt to eradicate the ridiculousness of the sudden strong feelings.

It was even more useless than after their escape from the planet of the Onlies. No amount of time helped in this instance, as it had before. A week later, with leave over and the ship on her way, Spock still could not reach deep levels of meditation. It was beginning to affect his performance on duty. It did not affect him to a degree that anyone realized it—he was still well within and above normal human/crew performance levels—but _he_ knew.

He also knew why. A week of intense attempts to meditate and the levels of it he _had_ been able to achieve had revealed it to him—what he should have known, but had hidden from himself. He knew, but it was not logical. Nor could he act on it even if it were.

In less than a year it would be his time. He would be forced to return to Vulcan to wed T'Pring, and that would be that. He had no other choice. It would not be logical to—

No. He should not even think of such a thing. Even if it were not highly irregular, he would not do such a thing to the doctor when he was meant to be married. And yet…

He had not reached a resolution before he and the doctor, Mr. Scott and a party were stranded in the damaged shuttle _Galileo_ on Taurus II only days later. It did not matter then, for it seemed for many long hours that all of them would die in one way or another anyhow—starvation, death at the hands of the violent native species, or burnt to molecules in a failed escape attempt from the atmosphere.

In burying one of the crew members who _were_ killed by the natives, several of them were trapped outside the shuttle at the point of another attack. A boulder sent down on them as a weapon trapped Spock against a rock face…he told the others to go, to take off. He ordered it.

McCoy ignored the order, and by his leading the others did as well. They came back for him. As a result, all of them that still lived were rescued by the _Enterprise_—and none too soon.

McCoy. McCoy saved his life. That was not lost on Spock, and the greater part of himself that had tried to fight back what he had felt on the shore leave planet…that had tried to tell him it was illogical, impractical, emotional, and perhaps even wrong with his betrothal to T'Pring to consider…lost. It lost at least long enough that shortly after their return to the ship Spock found himself at the door to the doctor's quarters.

"Come in."

The door opened, and McCoy's cheery voice invited him into the room. The doors slid shut behind him has he stepped inside, hands clasped behind his back.

"Doctor."

"Spock; this is a surprise." McCoy, at his desk, held up a glass of brandy. "Come to celebrate the fact that we're alive?"

"Not precisely."

"Oh…didn't think so. It's not your style," the doctor teased.

Spock did not know where to begin. The part of him that was very much Vulcan, that told him he should be Vulcan and nothing more and wanted to be, told him to turn around and leave this instant.

He took two steps closer to the desk and stopped again, hands still clasped tightly behind him. "Doctor…"

McCoy must have realized something was on his mind, because he frowned a little, put the drink down, and stood. "Spock? Are you all right?"

"I am not certain of the answer to that."

The doctor frowned at the strange reply. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It is merely the truth, Doctor. Please, do not interrupt me. What I must say I will find difficult to say as it is."

"What…?"

Spock held up a hand and took another step or two forward, but still he kept a bit of distance—enough that he could keep his head, anyhow, and it really was incredibly humiliating to need to do so. This was not at all Vulcan.

"Doctor, please."

McCoy shut up, eyeing him warily. He seemed concerned rather than angry, however, which was preferable. When the doctor nodded to him to continue, he did. His hands, still yet clasped behind him, tightened to a nearly painful degree.

Spock took a deep breath. "Doctor….it has come to my attention that I am…distressed, when I believe you to be in danger. The same is true of the captain, of course, yet my reactions to _your_ peril seem to be stronger. I did not understand this phenomenon until we believed you to be dead two standard weeks ago, while investigating the shore leave planet."

McCoy was already gaping at him, and the first officer continued quickly. "It may not be logical in any sense—certainly considering our usual repoire—yet after my…" He hesitated, but he could not lie. Or he would not. Not to McCoy. He finished quietly. "After the emotions I experienced upon believing you dead, I have come to the conclusion that I…care for you. Quite deeply." He let out a small breath.

The doctor stared at him for quite a long time, and Spock didn't move. He stared back, unwavering though part of him very much wanted to waver. After a long while McCoy cleared his throat noisily.

"Damnit, Spock, is this some Vulcan joke," he questioned hoarsely.

Spock's eyebrows went up immediately, and before he knew he had planned to do it he had taken long strides to close the distance between them, to assure him. "Not at all, Doctor. While Vulcans_ are_ capable of a certain type of humor, despite your allegations to the opposite, I would never consider 'joking' about such a subject as this."

They were very close now. He did not believe he had meant to come so close, but there was scarcely a quarter meter of space between them now. It seemed to startle McCoy as much as it did Spock, and the Vulcan reached for the doctor's arms to steady him. McCoy didn't pull away. He was looking up at Spock, mouth open in confusion.

"Spock, what…? This doesn't make any sense. You're a damn Vulcan, and you—what are you doing, telling me something like that?"

"I am telling you the truth, as odd as it may seem. And it is—odd—to me as well."

"Gee thanks."

"Yet I care for you. When I believed you dead the thought of continuing was…not a pleasant one."

McCoy licked his lips anxiously. "Spock…"

One of the Vulcan's hands was drifting up from his arm to his face, and though it was only a small amount of contact the brush of a finger against the doctor's cheek sent electricity up Spock's arm. It was enough that he sensed surface emotions without meaning to. He had not meant to intrude, but in that moment he knew that he was not being entirely rejected. The doctor felt…something, for him.

Spock had never anticipated that knowing such a thing could be so exhilarating. Part of him still felt shame, for giving in to any such emotions—for being here, for saying these things to the doctor—but the rest of him, in that moment, simply did not care.

McCoy pulled in a sharp breath at the touch, and swallowed, and one of his hands came up tentatively to Spock's arm in return. "This is crazy," he muttered.

Spock agreed, though the term was rather human. It seemed equally 'crazy', the urge that he had next, and yet in the brilliance of realizing that what he felt might be reciprocated, he gave in.

He leaned forward and caught the doctor's lips in the very human tradition of a kiss.

* * *

When he felt Spock's lips press firmly to his, McCoy finally snapped out of it.

This _was_ crazy.

He realized he was reciprocating the kiss, and he abruptly broke away and pulled back, knocking the Vulcan's hands from his arms. "Spock, what the hell are you doing! Are you out of your Vulcan mind!"

Despite everything he had said up until now, and the fact that it was true—which McCoy realized—Spock had kept a very straight face until now. His usual expression, perhaps with a twinge here and there of bewilderment, but a straight one. Now, though, as he took a surprised step back, he looked _hurt_. No one but Jim or McCoy himself would have seen it, probably, but the hurt was there and Leonard felt an answering ache in his chest.

But this couldn't happen.

"I do not understand…" Spock was saying.

Of course he wouldn't. He was Spock. He was a Vulcan. Of course he didn't see the way Jim looked at him. It seemed to have taken him a great deal of effort to figure out just his own feelings, here, now, and that was a far cry from being able to read anyone else's feelings.

And Jim was Leonard's best friend. Maybe Jim hadn't confided that to him, whatever he felt for Spock…but he knew. And he couldn't do that to Jim.

Even if, maybe, he felt something for Spock himself.

"Spock, we _can't_. It—it's not logical."

"That much has already been established," he answered, an eyebrow quirked. He tried to take a step forward again, but McCoy held him off with both hands up and took a step back of his own.

"Spock! Listen to me. This is insane. It would never work. We—we argue too much. You know that. I know you think you—you're just not used to emotions, maybe, you've suppressed them so long. But you were just worried about me. That's all. You don't—you…" _You don't love me. You can't love me. That would be really damn inconvenient for both of us, even if I—damnit._

"And you know you're still going to be you," he continued quickly. "You'll suppress them again, no matter what it is, and you'll be yourself again, and you'll just take it out on me in all those arguments of ours later if I let you do something you'll regret."

The hurt was back, in those dark eyes that spoke so much for him that Spock likely wished they didn't. "I believe I am fully capable of making decisions for myself, Doctor McCoy," he said stiffly. His hands disappeared behind his back again. "However, you are also, and if your decision was not to respond to what I have offered you need have merely said so. I will not, as humans put it, 'beg.'"

"Okay…okay, good…so we understand each other."

"Quite clearly."

The answer was icy, and McCoy winced. "Spock…listen, I'm sorry. I didn't mean…it's just that—"

"There is no need for an explanation, Doctor. I am sorry if I have disturbed you. I apologize for my intrusion."

With that any trace of emotion was gone, and the Vulcan turned and left.

Leonard almost stumbled backward, dropped into his desk chair once more, and after a moment of stunned silence he swiped up the glass of brandy again. He was already hunting for the bottle.

_Oh god, what the hell have I done?_


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks to those of you who reviewed! Please do let me know what you think, guys-can't keep going if I don't know. :) Thanks for reading, and I hope you like the chapter!

Episodes seriously referenced in this chapter are _This Side of Paradise, Operation: Annihilate!, Amok Time,_ and _Return to Tomorrow_. A couple of others are mentioned but nothing big.

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Whatever McCoy felt, it was not in the same way that Spock was certain now his own feelings leaned. That much was clear. McCoy had made it _extremely_ clear. The logical thing to do was to move forward. To meditate and to put this incident behind him. Perhaps the doctor was right, after all; perhaps it would all fade with time. He would be in control once more and it would not matter.

Time. Waiting. Meditation. Forgetting.

It was not as easy as it sounded, even for a Vulcan. But it was logical, and he would do it. He had no alternative. He was not human; he did not have the option of running away, as often portrayed in Earth literature. To do so would have been shameful in any case, and he would not have wanted to anyhow. The doctor was still a friend to him. Jim was here. Where would he go?

The _Enterprise_ was the only true home he knew.

* * *

McCoy decided that the best tactic would be to forget that the bizarre scene in his quarters ever took place. Spock seemed to be taking that route himself, which must have meant it was logical. Who was he to argue with logic?

It seemed both of them were eager to forget it; after a few days of strained awkwardness everything went back to normal soon enough. No one even noticed. Jim asked him once if everything was all right, and he lied and said it was. Then, once everything was normal again it _was_ all right. Or it seemed to be. He supposed that was a lot better than nothing.

After a while McCoy was able to pretend it really hadn't happened. He pestered the Vulcan as he always had and Spock pestered him in return. Their banter returned to its usual flow, and no one was the wiser. Leonard had to admit that he was glad of it; he would not have wanted to lose Spock's friendship, even though he would be hard pressed to admit aloud to anyone that it existed.

The remainder of the first year of the _Enterprise_'s five-year mission passed, with more excitement that McCoy really cared for. He was not particularly fond of Omicron Ceti III once the problem there became clear, for one thing. While on the planet under the influence of the spores he didn't particularly care about anything, but once back on the ship and cured he realized that it had bothered him quite greatly to see an influenced Spock flouncing around happily with that girl. Leila Kalomi.

No, he hadn't liked it all, and wasn't that just a kicker?

He tried to forget again, but it was easier this time with Spock seeming to want to forget what had happened there even more than Leonard did.

He _had_ to forget. Jim hadn't liked it either—it fact, McCoy _knew_ it had to have hurt Jim to see that more than it had bothered him—and he didn't need Jim coming out of his own funk and realizing that Leonard had been bothered at all.

So he did, and he did a good job of it too. Forgetting.

Then there was Deneva.

It was awful for all of them. The death of Jim's brother and sister-in-law and the tragedy inflicted on the Deneva colony in general came on the heels of the pain of Edith Keeler's death in 1931 for the captain, and then Spock was infected by one of the neural parasites attacking the planet's population and it was difficult for both Jim and McCoy to see him suffer.

For McCoy, though, that wasn't the worst of it.

The worst of it came when Spock was blinded in the course of testing to rid him of the parasite…and that it needn't have happened that way. Only the ultraviolet light was needed to kill the creatures.

Spock didn't blame him. Jim didn't either.

It didn't matter. He blamed himself, anyway.

_He loved me. He may STILL love me. And I took his eyes from him. _

Jim contacted him from the bridge once the ultraviolet satellites were active—once the creatures on the planet were dying. "_Tell Spock...it worked_."

"He'll be happy to hear that."

"_Bones…it wasn't your fault_," the captain tried to tell him again, and he realized he must not have kept the dejection from his voice when he answered. "_Bones? Bones…_"

Jim tried to get him to say something for a minute or two but he couldn't. He didn't answer again, and the intercom went silent.

Still, he had a message to relay to Spock.

McCoy rose slowly from his desk and trudged into the ward, where Spock lay on one of the beds. He wasn't exactly a patient—there was nothing the doctor could do for him, after all; he only wanted to be sure there were no other side effects—so he was still in his uniform. McCoy wasn't sure whether or not he was awake. He'd slept for a few hours, exhaustion from nearly two days of controlling the pain the parasite had put him in.

Right now his back was to the door, but he must have been awake and he must have heard someone coming. Before McCoy reached the side of the biobed he'd sat up against the head of it and straightened his blue uniform tunic. His head turned a bit in McCoy's direction.

"Doctor?" he asked.

"It's me," McCoy confirmed. "How are you feeling?" The monitor above the bed told him that other than the blindness Spock was just fine now. He'd gotten some rest, and before that he'd eaten something…he was as perfectly healthy as he always was. But he was blind.

He wanted to hear Spock's answer to the question, though.

"I am well. There are no other ill effects. I do not see the purpose in remaining here."

"I know…you can go back to your quarters if you think you'll be all right there."

The Vulcan's head tilted to one side a bit. "Is there a reason I would not be? Certainly I know my own quarters well enough to maneuver in them. I realize that other movement will take adjustment in some form, but—"

"All right, Spock, I know. I'm sorry." He really didn't want to hear about that right now—how he'd changed Spock's life forever due to his own negligence. He sighed. "Anyway…Jim wanted me to let you know that the satellites are working. The creatures are dying; the colonists will all be free soon."

"That is good," Spock nodded. "I am pleased that our solution has worked well for them."

McCoy made a face. He thought about turning around and leaving again, right then, but…he didn't. Instead he sat on the edge of the bed facing Spock, and though the Vulcan knew what he was doing he didn't seem to mind the proximity.

"Spock…" He swallowed hard. "Spock, I'm…I'm _sorry_."

Spock surprised him by reaching out and locating his hands in his lap…by covering them with his own. "It was not your doing."

"Your eyes aren't the only thing I'm apologizing for."

A brief flicker of pain, on the Vulcan's face; though this wasn't physical it looked the same as the signs McCoy had learned to recognize so easily over the past two days.

"Doctor…"

"It's not that I don't…care. I care. You know that, don't you?"

Spock nodded, just slightly. "Yes, Doctor. I am aware," he answered softly. Though it wasn't necessary now his face turned away for a moment. "I must also apologize. It was…unfair of me, and quite wrong, to do what I did to you on that day. For I am betrothed to another, through Vulcan tradition. It has been so since I was but seven years of age. I knew this, and yet I…I should not have approached you. Forgive me."

Now that took a bit of digesting, but McCoy didn't ask for details. It didn't matter, and he didn't really want to think about it—about whether that little fact made the whole thing easier or harder to deal with.

"There's nothing to forgive."

Spock nodded again, a small movement, in acceptance of that answer. Leonard wasn't sure when his own hands had turned up to take hold of the Vulcan's, but Spock wasn't pulling them away.

With sickbay quiet for now, at least until the satellites had done their work, McCoy didn't have anywhere else to go at the moment. He had no reason to move, so he didn't.

They sat there like that for a long time. Spock did disengage his hands at some point, and Leonard understood—too much of a strain on his touch telepathy, to continue to keep anything from passing between them—but that didn't matter, either. Spock seemed content just to have him there, and McCoy was content to stay for now.

The longer he sat there and didn't move, the longer he could pretend that Spock was all right and that nothing would change. He would be back on the bridge tomorrow, and…

* * *

McCoy was up all night, as the more seriously injured from the colony were brought up to the ship to be treated once the population was freed. By midway through the next day he was exhausted, but everyone had been taken care of sufficiently enough to allow them to beam back down to the colony's own medical facilities. They were slowly getting everything up and running again, and the _Enterprise_ would leave orbit soon.

At some point before it was too late last night Jim had shown up to help Spock to his quarters.

"I'm all right, Jim," Leonard had told him.

It was a lie. Maybe he would be, but he wasn't yet.

Jim hadn't bought it, but he hadn't said anything, either. He led his first officer from sickbay with a hand at his elbow without another word, because he seemed to realize that more useless platitudes wouldn't mean anything.

McCoy was off duty now, finally, but wanted to check on Spock before he retired. He carried a medical tricorder with him and stopped at the first officer's quarters on the way to his own.

There wasn't an answer at the door, but his medical override opened it. As he'd expected at the lack of answer, he found the Vulcan asleep. It was the middle of the day, but he wouldn't blame the man for still needing to catch up on his rest after everything he'd been through in the last few days.

He kept quiet, meaning to take a scan and leave again without disturbing his friend's sleep, but apparently he wasn't quiet enough for Vulcan ears. Halfway through the scan Spock stirred, and a questioning voice rose from the pillow. "Doctor?"

Spock must have realized it was him from the quiet whir of the medical tricorder. But the Vulcan seemed to be fine, so he replaced the medical scanner and let the tricorder hang from his shoulder again.

"Sorry, Spock," he said quietly. "Just checking up on you. If you need more rest don't hesitate to go back to sleep." As he said it he shifted his gaze down to his friend, and he was just registering at that moment that the voice had seemed far more incredulous that it probably should have.

Leonard was just beginning to frown when he focused on his friend's face and realized that Spock was looking up at him.

Spock was _looking_ at him.

"Spock?" he gasped.

The Vulcan was blinking rapidly, as if he couldn't believe it, either. He sat up quickly. "Doctor, I…I can see you."

McCoy's knees momentarily failed to work, and he dropped onto the edge of the bed. "And you get on _our_ asses for stating the obvious."

Spock let out a heavy breath that might have been a laugh if he had been human. As it was it was still laden with mixed emotions. "That is true," he managed after a moment. "Perhaps I should not."

"But how, Spock? I don't understand, and I'm the doctor here."

The Vulcan cleared his throat. "I believe…yes. The Vulcan inner eyelid must have brought enough protection."

"The what?"

"It is a little-remembered evolutionary trait, developed for protection from Vulcan's bright sun. We do not usually pay it much attention, and even if we did I would not have considered that it might be nearly as effective as it apparently is."

The doctor was grinning now—well, grinning through the blur in his vision, and damnit to that. He didn't know what else to say, so he was left where he sat as Spock got up and looked around his quarters in the closest McCoy had ever seen a Vulcan come to wonder. Leonard took the opportunity to blink his own vision clear, When he stood and looked up again Spock had turned back to him.

They looked at each other. McCoy was smiling and Spock had that look that was as close as he came to one. The Vulcan trailed back to him slowly, his hands going comfortably behind his back in true Spock fashion. He stopped a few feet away. "I am gratified that my condition was not permanent."

McCoy nodded once. "So am I," he admitted. Then before the moment could become something that they both knew it shouldn't, he changed the subject.

"Well, we'd better get you to the bridge."

"Now, Doctor?"

"Yes, now. We're about to leave orbit. Jim's up there, and so is everybody else. And I'm coming with you." He grinned again. "I wouldn't miss their reactions to this for all the tea in china."

Now Spock frowned in confusion. He didn't understand the reference. "I'm sorry, all of the—?"

"Never mind, you green-blooded medical mystery; come on."

* * *

As Doctor McCoy had anticipated, Jim and their other friends among the bridge crew were both surprised and pleased to discover that he had regained his sight. Jim, of course, did not miss the opportunity to tease.

"Mister Spock…regaining eyesight would be an emotional experience for most. You, I assume, felt nothing?" he asked mischievously.

"Quite the contrary, Captain; I had a very strong reaction." Upon the raising of Jim's eyebrows, Spock continued. "My first sight was the face of Doctor McCoy, bending over me."

It was meant as misdirection—for Jim to interpret it as a subtle joke at the doctor's expense, and that was exactly the way Jim took it. McCoy even played along.

"Hmm. Tis a pity brief blindness did not increase your appreciation for beauty, Mister Spock."

Jim laughed. Others across the bridge chuckled.

But both Spock and the Doctor knew that he had told only the truth.

* * *

Spock did not marry the Vulcan woman he to whom he was betrothed. It was all a long, convoluted episode that none of them really cared to remember—except, perhaps, for the moment that Spock discovered that he had not, in fact, killed his captain and friend in ritual combat on Vulcan's surface. The overjoyed smile on the Vulcan's face when he took Jim's shoulders in shock and swung him around would be something McCoy was certain he'd remember forever. It was a rare glimpse into the truth of the matter—that their first officer was not at all bereft of emotions.

It was a comforting thing to see, Spock allowing those emotions to surface even for a moment. It was good for him to do it whether he liked it or not. In a way, even that day all those months ago…Leonard had and _still _needed to forget what it was about, but he didn't want to forget it entirely. Remembering reminded him of who his friend really was. McCoy still teased and pestered him and likely always would, because it was just the way they were, but he needed to remember the truth.

After the incident on Vulcan, though, McCoy was temporarily concerned that Spock might approach him again. He was no longer promised to anyone else. But McCoy still knew that there was Jim, even if Spock didn't.

The encounter never came. It seemed they had reached some sort of silent agreement at Deneva, and he was glad of it.

Even Jim seemed to have realized that nothing was going to change. Leonard could tell he still cared about Spock, but that he didn't hold out as much hope as he had that first year that…well, that Spock might get a clue. McCoy hurt for Jim over that, as his friend, but it didn't interfere with anything, and it never had. Jim was a good man that way. Professional. Unselfish. He was Jim.

It all made things simpler. They were comfortable again, and McCoy was glad of it. Jim, Spock, and himself…he wondered when they'd a become a trio, a band of brothers per se, but it had been going on for so long now he knew he'd never figure it out. It worked for them, so he wasn't going to complain, and most of the mission's second year that was all they were. They were happy as they were.

It wasn't supposed to change, but it did.

It was Spock's fault, too, getting himself into trouble. Three times within the same month the Vulcan ended up neck-deep in it. First that blasted space amoeba they believed Spock's shuttle destroyed inside, he got himself shot in the back on the next planet and nearly died in reality, and not long after that was the fiasco with Sargon and the other two thought-creatures that requested to borrow bodies long enough to build android shells for themselves.

The bodies they borrowed were those of Jim, Spock, and Dr. Ann Mulhall. All of that would have been well and good if everything had gone as planned, but the being who took control of Spock's body had other ideas. He did not have the benevolent nature of his two companions, and no one realized it until it was nearly too late.

He planned to keep the body. He planned to take control of the ship; take control of…everything. The galaxy. Perhaps the known universe. And he _was _powerful. They were. He could have done it if Sargon had not helped them. But it required an elaborate ruse—one that McCoy was not privy to until the jig was up. While Sargon and his mate transferred their consciousnesses into the _Enterprise_ itself, transferring the captain and Doctor Mulhall back into their own bodies, Spock's consciousness could not be stored that way. Yet all three storage units had to be destroyed; those that had housed Sargon and the others before and then the consciousness of the two humans and Spock after the original switch. They had to be destroyed in order that the malevolent being inhabiting Spock's body had nowhere to go and would be destroyed when he was forced to leave the Vulcan.

Sargon and his companion told no one that Spock's consciousness had been saved in someone else. No one told McCoy that Spock wasn't gone when that receptacle was destroyed. They all believed him dead. They had to believe it because the being in the Vulcan's body could read their thoughts.

McCoy had to believe that Spock wasn't coming back, and that the only way to rid themselves of the being in his body was to kill that body.

He had to believe that the hypospray he brought to the bridge contained the most potent poison known to Vulcans. He had to believe he was going to the bridge to kill what was left of his friend.

There was no choice. His only relief was that in a struggle to accomplish what they had to do it wasn't he who ended up doing the injecting. Christine had the hypo at that point, though as it turned out it wasn't exactly Christine Chapel at all.

It was Christine _and_ Spock, because it was in her mind that Sargon had placed Spock's consciousness for temporary safe-keeping. And Spock's body had not been dead at all when the being inside it fled, because the hypo did not truly contain enough poison to be deadly. Sargon had tricked McCoy's mind while he prepared it. He only had to believe it, so that the being in the Vulcan's body would believe it.

Spock was merely unconscious, but for two agonizing minutes everyone on the bridge save Spock and Christine in the nurse's body believed he was lying dead at their feet.

And for McCoy it was worse than when they thought Spock's shuttle had been destroyed, only three or four weeks before. It wasn't quite…real then, and they'd quickly discovered it wasn't so anyway.

This was real. Spock's body was right there, and he was dead, and…

For those two minutes Leonard knew how Spock had felt, when he had apparently been killed on the shore leave planet a year before. Now McCoy knew what it was like, and he didn't blame the Vulcan for how he'd reacted after that at all. His stomach was tight and he couldn't breathe, or move. He left empty, lifeless.

_I do love him. I did love him…_

He knew that too, finally, but it was kind of pointless now, wasn't it?

But yet again Spock was not dead, did not die, and now what the hell was he supposed to do? McCoy wondered.

He didn't have to decide for himself. It was déjà vu, really. Spock came to his quarters that evening, and he was at his desk with a bottle and a glass all over again.

"What do you want, Spock?"

The Vulcan was calm, holding his usual stance. He didn't seem to be here for any reason related to what McCoy was certainly thinking about now.

"I merely wished to ascertain your well-being, Doctor. I…recognize that it must not have been an easy task to believe that you would need to kill my body yourself. While I understand the difference between mind and body, I also understand that for humans it is often difficult, due to emotions, to differentiate."

"You're damn right," McCoy growled.

"I apologize that the deception was necessary. Sargon was also deeply sorry for the temporary pain that he knew the ruse would cause."

The doctor waved his free hand. The other held his glass. "Yeah, yeah, I know. Fine. I don't blame him. I guess I don't blame anybody."

Spock's brow furrowed a bit. "Yet you seem disturbed."

"Of course I'm disturbed, Spock! I thought I was going to have to kill you. Then I thought you were dead, even if I didn't do it myself. You were on the ground, and you were dead, all right? Of course I'm damn disturbed…" He choked a bit and stopped, embarrassed.

"Doctor?" Spock came closer, concerned, and that wasn't good right now.

"No, no I'm all right. I'm fine. Thanks for…stopping by, I guess, but…you should go now."

"Are you certain you're quite all right, Doctor?"

McCoy rubbed at a temple. He was getting a headache. "Spock, please just leave," he sighed. It didn't matter how he felt. What about Jim? What about all of them? Everything worked too well the way it was; how could he risk that?

Unfortunately, the Vulcan was choosing now to be stubborn. "You do not seem well, Doctor. Perhaps I should escort you to sickbay."

"I'm not sick. It's just my head," he said. _And my throat, and my stomach, and my chest, and my heart IN my chest, and everything else…_

Still Spock didn't quite listen to him. He dropped the sickbay issue, but he didn't leave. Instead he sat down in the extra chair on the other side of the desk. McCoy knew the Vulcan was looking at him, but he refused to look up. He was afraid he'd see what he saw a year ago—afraid he'd see Spock _caring_, and then he wouldn't be able to keep himself in check, and then what?

He closed his eyes and took a drink from his glass, and that was how he missed Spock moving an arm. That was how it surprised him when he felt a hand clasp his; the one he'd left on the desktop. He flinched a bit, but there was no intrusion into his mind. Instead he felt something, there at the edge, as if his friend were asking permission to be let in.

_I can't let you in now, you green-blooded, clueless...Don't you understand? _

_Do I not understand what, Doctor?_

Leonard blinked at the voice in his mind. Spock still had not intruded into his thoughts, and McCoy knew that he wouldn't, but the voice was there all the same.

He squeezed Spock's hand impulsively. "Spock…nothing's changed," he began with difficulty.

"On the contrary. Much has changed. I am no longer betrothed, the both of us have another year's worth of experiences to influence us, and you now know what it was I experienced on the shore leave planet. You understand. I regret that you were subject to such an experience, but it is true nonetheless."

McCoy made a face. "I thought you'd given up."

Spock spoke slowly now. "'Given up'…perhaps. 'Moved on' even, as you humans would put it. It was only logical. However, despite ignoring them I have found that feelings, whether or not acknowledged, do not have a habit of disappearing. Matter and energy or no, they seem subject to the same laws."

"What?"

The Vulcan's expression was soft as he answered. "They are not created or destroyed. They are."

Somehow, as strange as it sounded, it was the most romantic thing McCoy had ever heard and the most touching thing anyone had ever said to him all at once.

He was letting Spock in and he didn't know when he'd decided to, but Spock was there, in his mind, at his permission. It was nothing so powerful as a mind meld, with only their hands touching, but it was there.

_You love me. As I have loved you for some time now. _

_This is still crazy, Spock. _

_Indeed. _

But what about…?

Leonard didn't care anymore. In his momentary lapse he had allowed Spock in, and now he could feel it. He knew what Spock felt for him. He _really_ knew. He _felt_ it. How could he turn him away now?

Spock stood, and as small as the desks in personal quarters were it was nothing for someone of his height to lean over it. The Vulcan kissed him, and this time McCoy didn't shove him away.

This time he _wanted_ it, he_ knew_ he wanted it, and…

Jim. Damnit! But…

"Spock," he said, with some difficulty. He wasn't breathing right anymore. Damn Vulcan.

"Yes, Doctor?" Spock asked quietly against his cheek.

"Spock…if we're doing this, we can't tell anyone. Not even Jim. We have no idea what the hell we're doing. We just can't—we can't tell anyone. All right? That's my condition."

"That is agreeable. Vulcans are generally very private in their personal matters in any case." As he said it Spock took the opportunity to withdraw just enough to come around the desk, but then he was right back to being way too damn close for ease of respiration. "We are not the type to shout such things from every mountaintop."

"That was a joke."

"Yes. You are learning."

McCoy stood. "Spock, I'm serious!"

"I heard you, Doctor, and as long as you are implying discretion and not purposeful secrecy, I agree with you completely."

He let out a breath. That would have to do. He didn't want to purposely keep anything from anyone either. Spock was right, even if he didn't know entirely what he was right about. "Of course that's what I mean," McCoy said truthfully. "What kind of person do you think I am?"

Spock ran the fingers of one hand over his cheek, and there was that almost-smile. Even now, though, he was himself. It wasn't quite a real one. But that was all right; it probably would have been strange if anything else were there.

This was Spock. This, beyond all reason, was the Vulcan that Leonard had somehow fallen in love with.

"You are yourself, Leonard McCoy," Spock answered him quietly. It seemed that, to him, that said it all.

Right now McCoy hoped to hell it was enough.


	3. Chapter 3

Sorry this took so long. Again, school work and break beginning and traveling and such as that. I hope ya"ll are still around lol. Please let me know if you are, especially on this on. Gotta admit, what with this story being a bit out there, kinda, I'm a little more insecure about it than others. *shrug* Anyway, I hope ya'll are enjoying it. Thanks for reading and reviewing! Happy New Year! :)

Episodes seriously referenced in this chapter: _Patterns of Force_, _Spock's Brain_, and _The Paradise Syndrome, _in that order

Chapter 3

It didn't occur to Leonard until afterward that he was more than a little confused about how they'd ended up in the bedroom side of his quarters.

"Wait…I thought Vulcans only did that every seven years?"

"That is the time when the mating drive is forced upon us; it does not mean we are incapable at other times."

McCoy blinked. "Huh…not that that was a very logical question, considering what we just did."

"Indeed."

McCoy rolled his eyes, and when he tried to moved he nearly rolled backward off the bed. "Whoa—!" Spock caught him and pulled him closer again, and Leonard glanced back disdainfully at the edge of the bed that was much too close. The beds in personal quarters were scarcely larger than standard singles; there was room for both of them, but barely.

"That's going to be a problem," he muttered. But for now he was more than content to simply settle closer to the Vulcan he was sharing the bed with.

The doctor drifted toward sleep, wondering if he would wake up and it would all have been a dream.

It wasn't. When he woke early the next morning Spock was still there, sleeping soundly next to him. As soon as his physicians instincts were out of the way—the ones that were glad the Vulcan was getting rest after the physical strain of having his body utilized by that creature for however long it had been—McCoy was free to feel everything else.

In the back of his mind, part of him still knew how Jim felt about Spock. He also knew there was nothing he could do about it if Spock wanted _him_. He had waited long enough to see if Spock would change his mind. He'd denied what he felt long enough. There was nothing else to be done but let this be, and he was finally happy to do it.

It was like a weight had been lifted. Well…most of one. Nothing could ever be perfect, could it? But right now this was more than enough.

* * *

Nothing outside of what happened in privacy changed between them. After all, it was the banter and the arguing and the teasing that had become the first steps of endearing them to each other in the first place. It was who they were together, and it didn't stop in private, either. The only difference was that in private, they knew there was much more to it; they could act on it.

More often than not, though, they were content to spend their evenings together doing nearly nothing at all, merely enjoying each other's company. Spock's lyre and chess set spent just as much time in McCoy's quarters now as they did in his own, though Leonard preferred to listen to the Vulcan play than play chess with him. Jim was more the chess person, really. But Spock still spent the occasional evening playing chess with the captain, so McCoy didn't feel guilty about not liking the game much. He could get more work done those nights anyway, without Spock nearby to distract him.

It was damn irritating, really, how Spock still seemed unflappable most of the time; Leonard, on the other hand, sometimes had issues staying focused when trying to finish paperwork in his quarters after hours when Spock was there—even if the Vulcan did nothing but sit quietly on the other side of the desk with a PADD or some such thing and see to work of his own. Sometimes McCoy had to stay in his office until it was done, if it really needed to be done.

What was worse was that when Spock, occasionally, noticed this, he seemed amused by it. Oh, there was no smug grin or anything like one, of course, not from the usually grim Vulcan. But it was there in his eyes just the same even if it was so well disguised that no one else but maybe Jim would have seen it at all.

But that was only a minor bump in road. It was an easy rhythm they settled into; something McCoy thought he could get used to in the long-term, if it came to that. It didn't take him long to understand how Amanda Grayson had been able to marry a Vulcan. Perhaps outward displays of affection were not something Vulcans often took part in—and never in public—but it was something else, something intense, to know that someone as logical and efficient and brilliant as a Vulcan, as Spock, had seen fit to care so much in this way for him and him alone.

Then again, maybe he really was crazy. But if he was, it was a kind of crazy he didn't mind at all.

Yet at the same time as all of that, it _wasn't _easy for them at the same time that it was. Their job didn't change, and Spock was the ship's first officer. He was out there more than most, in harm's way, and perhaps it was the oldest relationship issue in the book, but there it was. It wasn't easy.

The very next serious mission Spock and Jim both returned with angry whip marks crisscrossing their backs. They'd been temporarily captured, held, and questioned on a planet run by a close approximation to the German Nazis of twentieth century Earth. Leonard was angry enough to see Jim like that, his best friend, once he had them both in sickbay. Standing behind Spock, though, examining the damage before going after the green lines with a dermal regenerator, he felt sick to his stomach.

God, had he always been this over-protective?

"I am quite all right, Doctor." Spock reminded him of this again without being prompted, which proved that he was learning.

McCoy picked up the dermal regenerator and went to work carefully tracing over the lines, healing the surface damage. "Maybe," he grumbled. "But you'd better be glad we live in the twenty-third century, or you'd _both_ have scars. Damn inhumane…" The dermal regenerator couldn't reach deep enough to fix quite all of the damage and irritation, either. Neither of them would be left with any marks on their skin, but both human and Vulcan would likely be sore for a few more days.

Jim, sitting on the next bed as Nurse Chapel worked on him, winced and shrugged. "Unfortunately not every civilization in this galaxy is as evolved as we are. It's just the risk we take being out here."

"Please try not to move, Captain," Chapel asked.

"Sorry…"

McCoy huffed quietly. "Well I can still complain about it, can't I?"

"Sure, Bones; doctor's prerogative."

"Good. Now be quiet and sit still so we can get this done. Both of you."

Jim smiled a little, sympathetically. Spock was quiet. When both of them were fixed up to the doctor's satisfaction he ordered them back to their quarters to rest. He complained loudly about Spock never paying much attention to medical orders and said something about escorting the Vulcan to his so no one would think twice about McCoy leaving with him.

The day was done. He was already meant to be off-duty anyway. He and Spock walked to the Vulcan's quarters slowly, in silence. For the first time in weeks the silence was uncomfortable.

When the doors closed behind them Spock spoke first, gently. "I _am_ well, Doctor. With the wounds now healed there is no longer any pain—merely some discomfort from the deeper irritation. As I am Vulcan any remaining tissue damage will heal quickly and soon the discomfort, too, will be gone. You have no need to be concerned."

"I know that," Leonard sighed in frustration. He took a few more steps into the room and rubbed at a temple. "It's more the fact that it happened in the first place. I was worried about you down there, all right? And then it turned out I had good reason to be; you came back injured, didn't you?"

Spock's eyebrows went up. "I had observed that you seemed perhaps even more irritable than usual after an away mission that had gone awry. I regret that this incident caused it. However, I am curious to know if this reaction is something that has been common to you and simply not shown to this degree in the past, or if the strength of it is new and in response to the fact that we are now..." He inclined his head a bit. "Involved."

McCoy shook his head, trying to decide whether he was amused or annoyed by the question. "Both, I guess. Of course I've always _cared_, Spock—you were still my friend, after all, before we…figured this out," he said, motioning vaguely between them. "But to tell you the truth_ I_ don't even know if it always bothered me _this_ much to see anything happen to you, and I just never admitted it to myself, or…what. I don't know. But I do know it bothers me this much now."

Leonard started to pace. "I'm your doctor, Spock. Whenever you go out there and get yourself hurt I'll always know exactly how bad it is and exactly what it means. I'm the _only_ one who'll always know that, and yet here I am trying to be the one with you. I know it's not really your fault but you and Jim, you always get in so much damned _trouble_ out there and…and I still don't know if I'm crazy."

A hand on his arm stopped his pacing. He slowed and turned around and Spock was beside him now. The Vulcan didn't say anything, but he didn't have to.

McCoy sighed. "I know. I'm being illogical. Why do you put up with me?" He shook his head again. "This isn't going to be easy, you know—no matter how the last few weeks have made it seem."

"I was never under the illusion that anything involving you would be easy, Doctor—much less simple, or logical."

Leonard smiled at that, knowing it was true just as much as it was a joke. "All right, enough. I didn't say what I said back in sickbay just to say it: you need rest. Go on in there."

The Vulcan seemed to not wish to aggravate him any further today, because he complied without argument. He retreated to the other side of the thin wall separating the main room and bedroom of his quarters, and sat on the edge of the bed to begin removing his boots. McCoy followed him.

"You might want to just take those shirts back off; it'll probably be easier on your back to sleep that way for a few days."

Spock nodded, and the blue uniform tunic came off, and the then the black t-shirt underneath. In another moment he was down to only his standard-issue shorts. It wasn't a bad sight at all, but Leonard knew he shouldn't be thinking about such things now. He sat on the edge of the bed beside the Vulcan, who really did look exhausted. They were alone, in Spock's quarters, so Spock was allowing it to show as he never would outside of this room. His shoulders drooped and his head hung a bit, and he took deep tired breaths.

His back, though healed outwardly, still glared an angry greenish color, tender. It would have been red if he were human. McCoy put out a tentative hand to brush against it, and unlike in sickbay Spock didn't stop himself from flinching minutely. In sickbay he hadn't made an errant move or uttered sound.

McCoy drew his hand back. "I thought you said it didn't hurt."

"Not at the moment. Not precisely."

"I'm sure it's good and sore, though."

"I suppose that is the human term."

Leonard scowled to himself. "But it did hurt, didn't it? When it happened."

Spock glanced over at him and raised an eyebrow. "It was nothing that I could not control and suppress—hardly anything approaching the pain afflicted on me at Deneva, and even that I was able to control for a time."

"I know that. It doesn't mean I have to like it."

Spock nodded as if he understood, and maybe he did. McCoy motioned for him to lie down, and he complied with that, too. He pulled the blanket down and pushed his feet under it and pulled it up to his waist. Leonard went around the bed to sit on the other side.

"Do you mind if I stay?" he asked quietly.

Spock turned over—with some difficulty, the doctor in him noted. "I do not," the Vulcan told him.

McCoy toed his boots off and lay down on what was left of the bed, on top of the blanket though. It was a lot warmer in here than in the rest of the ship.

"I could lower the temperature," Spock offered.

"No, no, you need to leave your back uncovered as much as possible to avoid any further irritation before it's healed completely. I don't want you getting cold; we don't need you sick, too. I'll be fine." But he did strip down to his own shorts and t-shirt before settling in. Spock called for the computer to lower the lights.

"I complain, but I wouldn't change anything," Leonard said after a moment.

In the dimness he could make out the Vulcan's head shifting closer to his. "I would not, either."

* * *

It was a strange and yet welcome sort of peace that came from a relationship with Leonard McCoy. Knowing that the doctor cared just as much for him as he did for McCoy was…it brought a sense of belonging that Spock had never felt so strongly. Not on Vulcan, not on Earth.

He had always seemed to belong in Starfleet, on the Enterprise, much more than he ever belonged on either planet of his heritage. He had always belonged with Jim and McCoy. He had always been more at home here, with them, and with his other shipmates and friends here, than anywhere else. But to be involved in a mutual relationship added just that much more to his sense of well-being.

It made him…whole, in a way he had not known before was possible. As a child torn between two worlds, he had never _thought_ it possible.

In the months that followed he attempted to communicate this to Leonard, but he was not certain how. There was not an adequate way to express it. Not for him, he who had never dared to show emotion to anyone. Still he did not; not in all of the ways that humans did. McCoy didn't seem to mind that, seemed able to read him even when he could not understand himself, and Spock hoped that, perhaps, the doctor understood the rest as well.

* * *

"I knew I never should have reconnected your mouth."

"If you had not done so, I could not have assisted you in completing the operation. I would be quite dead at the moment."

"That might be better," McCoy muttered.

"I hardly believe you truly think so. Now, as I was saying—"

"Spock, _please_. You haven't _shut up_ since we finished reconnecting that green-blooded brain of yours. I understand that the cultural and technological development of that planet is about as fascinating as it may get, but I'm tired of hearing about it. We're_ all _tired of hearing about it. Are you sure I didn't reconnect more than a few things wrong in there?"

The Vulcan raised a quizzical eyebrow. "Why do you ask?"

"Because you've got way too much damned energy. _Sit down._ You're making me tired just watching you."

Leonard was sitting on the edge of his desk, and Spock had not stopped moving since he sat up on the operating table. It had been some feat to even drag him back here to quarters once they'd gotten back to the ship and examined him with their own medical scanners.

He was fine. His brain was functioning normally, connected correctly, and all was well.

He just wouldn't shut up or be still. A side effect—too much adrenaline flow during the operation, perhaps. Whether that was his own fault or it would have been unavoidable, McCoy didn't know.

Spock still had an eyebrow up, and he came to the doctor's side. "I see. It appears that my brain chemistry has not yet quite regained its balance."

McCoy looked at him. He still had that ridiculous green jumpsuit on, and it reminded him too much of seeing Spock running around with that girl on Omicron Ceti III. Suddenly, all of the worrying for the past twenty-four hours over whether they'd get Spock's brain back in time to keep him alive became jealousy and need.

He 'humphed.' "Well if you've got all that energy anyway, the least you could do is put it to better use."

Spock almost smiled, and he leaned in close. His hands were already making their way to Leonard's waist. "Forgive me, Doctor."

McCoy wrapped his arms around the Vulcan's neck and drew him in to kiss him. "We'll see," he growled quietly.

The Vulcan all but picked him up, effortlessly, to bring him back to the bed, but in the past months Leonard had long since lost the urge to protest about such things.

Today, he was going to get that damned green jumpsuit off of Spock either way; he had nothing to complain about. The Vulcan had even stopped talking already.

* * *

Weeks later, Spock lay awake in his own bed. McCoy was drifting to sleep beside him, but sleep was something that was eluding the Vulcan at the moment.

"Spock? What is it? Something's up; I can tell."

"I am all right, Doctor. If you are fatigued, you should sleep."

Instead McCoy sat up, rubbing at his eyes. "What is it?" he asked again.

"It is of no importance now; it is highly illogical to be thinking of such a thing at this juncture in any case."

"Such a _what_ kind of thing? What in blue blazes are you talking about?" the doctor demanded groggily.

Spock did not speak at first. He shouldn't. He sat up now too, debating inwardly. "We are…content, are we not? Happy, even, if I were to use a human term."

McCoy blinked at him in confusion, and his eyebrows went up. "Huh…well, I guess we are. I mean…I don't know what you are, but_ I'm _happy. Content. Whatever you want to call it, I guess I'm it. Why?"

"I, too, am quite content with our arrangement; content to…be with you. You…" He struggled, to get across everything he had failed to in recent months. What he had hoped McCoy understood. Maybe McCoy did, but Spock was failing miserably to even communicate that it was what he was attempting to speak about. "You have become an essential part of my being—more even, than I expected when I accepted that I cared for you."

The doctor chuckled quietly. "I guess that's one way of putting it—you Vulcans and your big words." He shrugged, more serious now. "But I understand. Not that I _ever_ thought a few months ago that I'd admit, but I suppose I feel the same."

Spock fell silent, then, long enough to decide whether or not to say what he said next. "In light of this revelation I have come, in recent weeks, to be curious as to the answer to a question. It will not need a particular answer for some time, however—"

"Spock, you're beating around the bush," McCoy said, almost incredulous. "Last time I checked, Vulcans don't really do that. Spit it out, man."

Spock sighed, just a bit, and he wondered why he had never realized before entering into this relationship that doing so—sighing—was just as much an emotional reaction as anything else that humans did.

He began slowly. "My time will not come again for approximately 5.82 standard years, and yet I find myself wishing to know now whether you would consent, then, to…bonding. With me. To being the one to whom I would turn at that time." He swallowed. "As I have said, a highly illogical thing to consider in any capacity this far in advance, and yet…"

For a long time there was silence, as the doctor processed what he had just said.

"Spock, are you—are you asking me if I would _marry_ you?"

"If at that time you consented to it I would also wish that. However, while at least potential for a bond is required for a marriage to take place, marriage is not required for a bond to be formed. I would only ask a bond, if the idea of a traditional marriage were not something you wished to consider. I realize that you did not have an overall positive experience with your first marriage endeavor."

"You've sure got that right, but—wait, _why_ are we talking about this?"

"It is far enough in the future to be an impractical subject. That is why I did not wish to broach it…"

"But you were thinking about it."

"I was," the Vulcan admitted.

McCoy was silent long enough that it was almost concerning, but then the human smiled again. "Well like you say, it's a long way off. But…I can tell you I wouldn't be completely opposed to the idea."

Spock, sensing that the conversation was beginning to slip away from the serious, raised an eyebrow. "That is a rather ambiguous answer, Doctor."

"Go to sleep, Spock."

* * *

Leonard didn't have the time to really think much about the implications of what Spock had said to him before disaster struck again. Two days later Jim disappeared on an away mission.

What was worse, it was more than a mission. It was an effort to save a primitive inhabited planet from an oncoming asteroid collision. They never should have visited the planet first, before heading back to the asteroid's position to deflect it. They should have gone straight there and _then_ gone back to see what they saved, but no…Jim and his damned insatiable curiosity. And then he disappeared.

They never saw it coming. The planet was beautiful, earthlike in the way earth had been hundreds of years before. The people, from a distance—distance imperative as dictated by the Prime Directive—seemed peaceful and happy, living a simple life not unlike that of the American Indians of old. It was only himself, Spock, and Jim down there. They didn't expect trouble. They stood on the opposite shore of a lake from the nearest settlement and watched. Leonard was perfectly happy, standing there in the grass and the warm air under the trees, next to Spock. They didn't have any inkling that Jim might have gone off and gotten himself into trouble.

The search took too long. They had to be at the deflection point to push the asteroid away by a certain time, to be certain it worked, but they searched for Jim too long and still had to leave without him. The engines were pushed too hard—Scotty complaining all the way—to get them where they needed to be in time. The _Enterprise_ didn't have enough power by then to deflect the asteroid as it should. An effort to use phasers to destroy it instead—a command decision on Spock's part—also failed. They were left with burnt-out warp engines.

It would take two months to get back to the planet on impulse power, or 59.223 days as Spock put it, and they would be only four hours ahead of the asteroid the whole way. Those four hours, two months from now, would be all the time they had to find Jim and get him off the planet…if he was even still alive. The only other hope they had was the tricorder video and scans of a strange obelisk and its markings that they'd discovered near the beam-down point. Spock thought it might be some sort of deflection device, but it would need to be activated; if he could decipher from the markings a way to do that.

That wasn't even the worst of it, not for them. Two days ago they'd been speculating on the idea of marriage—_marriage_, of all things—and now…

It had been a long time since they'd fought this bitterly. McCoy knew they had to deflect the asteroid, but he hadn't wanted to leave the planet without Jim. Spock, of course, had been the voice of reason, but for an awful few hours Leonard had hated him for it. He wished it were something he could stop doing, but whenever things went south his emotional self reacted badly to the Vulcan's logic, and they ended up like this. It seemed inevitable.

Then stopping the asteroid failed, using phasers after the failure of the deflectors left the_ Enterprise_ crippled, and their chances of saving Jim or the planet or anyone dropped drastically. None of that made it any better, and by then McCoy wasn't the only one angry with Spock.

Before they'd been together McCoy knew he might never have apologized, but as they were he couldn't bear to leave everything as it was. Spock was very good, of course, at pretending nothing was wrong in any situation, but Leonard didn't work that way.

It still took a week. Spock wasn't avoiding him, but he _was_ spending every waking moment holed up in his quarters going over and over the tapes of that obelisk and its markings. He didn't eat, he didn't sleep, and McCoy was worried. The doctor sat with him, as often as he could, just to be sure that Spock knew the unusually vicious argument hadn't changed anything.

"I don't know about anyone else, but I don't blame you for what happened," he finally managed, on the sixth day after Jim disappeared. Spock had finally sat back in his desk chair, resting for a moment, and it seemed a good time to speak.

The Vulcan's eyebrows went up tiredly. "I thank you, Doctor, but that is no longer important. Deciphering these markings, is. It may mean the difference in saving the captain's life, or not."

"I know you're concerned about Jim; I'm just as worried about him, and I'll hate it just as much if we don't get him back. But you've got to rest."

"I will be fine; as a Vulcan, I—"

"I know that. It doesn't have to be long. Just…come lie down. Just for a little while." He reached a hand across the desk, and he knew it was pleading but right now he didn't care.

He couldn't do this anymore. He could be arguing with Spock and worried about him and worried they might lose Jim for good all at the same time. He just couldn't do it.

"Come on, Spock," he said quietly. _Please. I need you. _He didn't say it, but he thought it, and the Vulcan must have seen it in his eyes; after a long moment, he took the doctor's hand and slowly stood.

Leonard led him to the bed and they lay down together, not bothering to remove anything, boots and all. McCoy held him close, and Spock allowed it. The Vulcan all but buried his face in the doctor's shoulder as they lay there, and it told Leonard how much all of this really did bother Spock.

"It'll be all right. You'll figure it out. We'll get Jim out of there. With any luck we'll save the planet, too. It'll all be fine, I promise."

"It is illogical to promise anything which you cannot see through to conclusion yourself."

"Yeah, well, I'm illogical. That's why you love me."

"I would not say it is _why_; it is merely something I tolerate because I_ do_ care for you a great deal."

McCoy smiled to himself. "You've already said you'd marry me if you had the choice; you can't make excuses anymore."

Spock didn't say anything else. He seemed content where he was, and McCoy let him remain that way. He was resting, and for now that was better than nothing.

He would be even more grateful, later. It was the last time he got the Vulcan anywhere near a bed for the next seven weeks.

* * *

It came very close, but Spock finally managed to decipher the symbols on the obelisk—that they were, basically, musical notes. The language was very much like music, but even with his musical affinity it was so alien it took him nearly too long to realize it.

At the least, they didn't have to spend time looking for Jim when they arrived at the planet once again. The circumstances under which they found him, however, were not desirable. They beamed down to the same site, near the obelisk. They found Jim and a native woman, both in native clothing, collapsed on the platform before the obelisk. The fleeing crowd and the sizable stones scattered around the two fallen on the platform told them what had happened, even if they didn't understand why.

Jim, barely conscious, didn't recognize them. Whether just now from injury, or from something that had happened in the incident that had led to his disappearance, his memory was lost.

It was difficult enough to see Jim injured. It was quite another to realize that he did not know them. There was a strange tightening in Spock's stomach, and his throat threatened to follow. He did not wish to admit to himself that it had been just as difficult for him these past weeks as it had been for McCoy…to know that they might very well have lost Jim Kirk for good.

But there was no time for such things. They needed the captain to be himself. Spock had deciphered something of the symbols, but without knowing how to implement that knowledge...and the captain might know more.

A mind meld was the only way to restore his memory quickly enough. If the device were not activated in time, the planet would die. They needed Jim, and they needed him now. Spock did not hesitate to initiate the meld, even though he had never melded with Jim before in the past.

It was not easy. Jim Kirk had a very strong mind, for a human. This Jim was happy in the life he had here—no memories of being a starship captain, of being anything, of stress and responsibility—and he wished to stay here. He wanted the simple life he'd found. He didn't want the peace to end.

But it_ had_ ended. Already. His own people, his new family, had turned on him, when he couldn't stop the asteroid on his own. They had turned on him and…and his wife. His wife. Miramanee. His wife?

The information came as a shock, to Spock. He shook it off as quickly as he could, and he dug for the James Kirk that he knew. But that James Kirk fought not to be dragged back into the light; he fought to stay in the dark recesses, peaceful and left alone.

_Jim. Captain. You are needed. You must return. _

_ I don't want to…_

_ You must. _

Slowly, slowly, Jim, began to respond. He began to allow to Spock to pull his self from the recesses it had retreated to—like a well he'd been willingly trapped in the Vulcan was pulling him out of. At the same time the man he'd been, the man he'd been known as these past two months, the peaceful man known as Kirok, fought back.

_I am Kirok! I am Kirok! I am not—_

_ You are. You are James Kirk. I am Spock. You are my captain. You are my friend. I and our ship are in need of you. _

Spock was not quite aware of what was happening outwardly, and that was unusual for him. Usually he was quite in control when melding, but this one was…different. Stronger. It drew him in, and he thought he could hear Kirk shouting something, but that wasn't at all what mattered. It was Jim's mind that mattered.

And suddenly Jim was reaching for him, desperately, reaching through Kirok, reaching for the light and who he knew he had to be even if part of him didn't want it anymore.

_It will be all right, Jim. _

Had he neglected his friend in recent months, in light of his relationship with McCoy? He did not believe he had, nothing seemed to have changed between them, and yet somehow he had missed that Jim was unhappy. So had McCoy. Neither of them had seen it. Jim had been under stress in his life as a starship captain, and usually they supported each other through things such as that. Somehow, recently, they had failed.

Spock reached out for Jim, could see him now, see Jim forcibly pulling himself away from what he had been these past two months. Spock reached out, and finally found him, and took the metaphorical outstretched hand of the Jim Kirk that wished to return to being—the Jim he knew and wanted back.

It was like a sledgehammer to his head. It was like a blow to the head and the most pleasurable thing he had ever experienced, all at once, when Spock touched the essence of Jim Kirk—when Jim pulled himself free of his muddled identity and their minds in the meld were finally, truly, one.

It was also the instant that altered the course of his life, irrevocably and forever.

_I know, I know, _Jim's essence was telling him. _Just don't let go! If you let go I don't know if I can—_

_ I have you. You will be all right._

Part of him_ wanted_ to let go. He could not. He would never. But everything that was James Kirk threatened to overwhelm him with what he knew now, and it was too much, and a very small part of him wanted to. He scarcely noticed what he offered in response to Jim's plea. It was a wonder he did not lose the meld then and there, but he had a task to finish. He had to be certain that Jim's mind and memories were properly returned to their place.

_I know, _Jim said again. _I know I'll be all right, but…what is this? What am I…feeling? I don't understand what it is. _And he nudged at the same, unavoidable thing that Spock was fixated on. _I feel like…more than just that it's all right to come back. It's like I've…I've found…EVRYTHING, but I don't know what everything is. The moment our minds—_

_ I…will explain later, Captain. We have no time. You must wake up now. We both must wake up now. _

Everything was done. The captain would be fine. Spock pulled their minds apart as quickly as it was safe.

Maybe he was running.

He did not care.

* * *

"I! Am! Kirok! I am—!" Finally Jim stopped shouting through the meld, but when he stopped Spock called out.

"Spock!"

The Vulcan broke the meld, sitting up straight as if in shock and shouting his own name, as if reminding himself of who he was.

"What is it?" McCoy asked urgently. He leaned forward, anxious, worried that it hadn't worked or that Spock had been hurt somehow. He could say or do nothing else. Nurse Chapel was with them, besides the fact that Jim was lying between them.

Spock slumped back against the base of the obelisk behind him, and his eyes closed, and he looked…god, it looked like grief, on his face. "His mind…he is…an extremely dynamic individual," Spock managed after a moment.

Leonard's chest tightened in fear, but then Jim sat up. He seemed just as stunned as Spock, but the first words out of his mouth were, "It worked."

McCoy looked at Spock, but the Vulcan wouldn't look at him now. Spock focused on Jim, all business, as the two of them tried to figure out how to activate the obelisk.

It worked. A certain audio frequency their communicators could emit opened a panel that led the captain and first officer down into a control room located beneath the thing. It was the panel Kirk had activated before, when he disappeared. One of the devices in the control room had caused his loss of memory. One of the others controlled the obelisk. They managed to turn it on and the planet was saved.

All should have been well, except for the death of the young native woman that had been, in reality, Jim's new wife. Or Kirok's wife. But once they'd returned to the ship Spock would not talk to either Jim _or_ McCoy. He shut himself away in his quarters again, not allowing even Leonard to enter now.

That left McCoy to comfort Jim over Miramanee's loss on his own. Not that Spock would have been much of a help on that front anyway, traditionally, but Jim usually seemed to take comfort from his first officer and friend's presence whether he was any good at the usual ways of support and/or commiserating or not.

McCoy knew why, of course, and he realized now that if Spock was serious about the idea of marriage, or bonding, or whatever…Well, even if that wasn't going to happen soon he and Jim were going to have to have a serious conversation, and that _would_ have to happen soon. McCoy hoped Jim would understand, and he thought he would, or would do his best to, but Leonard still didn't look forward to that conversation. He didn't want to hurt anyone, but he didn't want to purposely keep anything from his closest friend, either.

It was time. Or it would be, once Jim had begun to recover from this loss. McCoy wouldn't dream of bringing up his relationship with Spock now, and neither would the Vulcan. If he weren't locked in his quarters. That of course, was the first problem.

Before Leonard did anything else, he had to find out what the hell was wrong with Spock.


	4. Chapter 4

Nobody? Because I'm posting somewhere else too but I can stop posting this one here if no one's reading...

Anyway, I know, I'm working hard on the next chapter of "If You Need Me" I promise, I just got excited about where I was in this one and wanted to write more. Look forward to that update soon though. If not later tonight then tomorrow. :)

Chapter 4

It was days after rescuing Jim and the deflection of the asteroid before Spock spoke to anyone outside of requirements of duty. He only left his quarters for his duty shift, and did not answer the door chime when he was inside. When McCoy did see him the Vulcan seemed deep in thought, almost to distraction. Jim told him Spock was performing just fine on duty, but he didn't respond to anything other than orders. Almost as if he were on some sort of autopilot.

Leonard went to Spock's door, every day. He tried at least once. He rang the door chime, even called through the door on occasion. It did no good.

Then, on an evening more than a week after whatever the hell had happened down there, McCoy had barely punched the call button on Spock's door when it opened. He blinked in surprise, frozen for a moment, but he went in.

"Spock?"

The Vulcan was at his desk, his hands clasped with two fingers of each up and together. Leonard knew him well enough to know it was a posture that denoted intense concentration and/or the existence of extreme emotional turmoil he was attempting to suppress or control.

Spock didn't look up until McCoy was beside him, but when he did look up he stood, quite deliberately. Without a word he pulled the doctor in close to him, took McCoy's face in his hands, and kissed him. That too, though tender, was quite deliberate.

"I love you," the Vulcan told him. "I always shall. Whatever else I must tell you now, and whatever transpires after today, I would ask for you to remember that."

Leonard looked at him warily, more than a little worried now. "I know you do, Spock." Though it wasn't something he usually said aloud. The first time McCoy had heard it it had been in his mind when Spock brushed it, holding his hand that first night. Since then it had become something of a custom that if either of them were to say it seriously it was silent—in their minds as they touched. Somehow it meant more that way.

"What is this about?" he asked anxiously. "What's wrong? You've been shut in here since we left the planet."

But the Vulcan didn't want to answer right away. For a long minute or more Spock caught his lips again, and Leonard wasn't particularly inclined to argue. Even afterward, the Vulcan let his forehead rest against the doctor's, and neither of them moved. McCoy was beginning to get a very, very bad feeling about all of this, and suddenly he didn't want to let go any more than Spock seemed to want to.

"Something has happened," Spock began finally, quietly. "Something I had in no way anticipated. It affects…us."

McCoy finally pulled back, just enough to look at him again. "Affects us how?"

Spock still seemed reluctant to release him, but he did. He gently turned them around enough to sit the doctor in his chair, and then pulled the extra chair around the desk to sit in it facing him. The Vulcan's hands clasped before him again as he sat down, as if to protect him from something he didn't wish to face.

"When I melded with the captain…"

"Something happened there. I _got_ that much, Spock. I _saw_ that, but I don't know _what_ happened. What was it?"

Even though he'd already begun Spock hesitated before continuing, and it was all uncharacteristic enough that the sense of dread McCoy was beginning to feel only worsened.

"When I joined with his mind…when I found that which was truly James Kirk, and not Kirok, I…became aware of a connection that is between us—an innate thing; nothing that either of us created. It is simply…there. There is an ancient Vulcan word for such a natural connection, but the word is not important. You would not understand it without cultural context, in any case. What is relevant is what it means. I suppose the closest definition in Standard would be…soulmate, perhaps, or intended. An unbreakable tie."

McCoy just stared at him. "What the hell are you talking about? So you melded with Jim, and…what? There's some mystical nonsense—"

"It is not 'nonsense' and it is not something to be taken lightly. The fact that I did not wish it is of equally little consequence. It is."

"It is _what_? What is?"

The Vulcan shook his head wearily. "I have attempted since that day to decipher a way in which to explain it that you would fully understand, but I don't know if that is possible."

"Well _try_, damnit." Because he already had a sinking feeling of exactly where this was going, and if some damned Vulcan voodoo was going to ruin everything for them he sure as hell wanted to know _why_.

"It is…it is one of the oldest mysticisms of Vulcan culture, from even before we adopted logic—that it is possible for there to be one individual to which another is forever tied. It does not happen for all; in fact it is quite rare, or at least has become so. Even of those who may have an intended, not all find the individual they are meant to. Those that do are sometimes aware of the connection upon meeting; usually the stronger telepaths. Others may suspect or not, but must meld before it is certain. This is such a case as that. I…" He actually winced a bit. "As I am only half Vulcan, I am naturally a weaker telepath than some. That is likely why I had no inclination…"

The longer he talked, the more sense it made, and the more that sinking feeling gripped him. Leonard had seen the way Jim looked at Spock from the beginning. If what Spock was saying was true…hell, Jim had known. Somehow, even if he had no idea what it was he knew. And even if it was McCoy Spock had come to, the Vulcan had always been just as overly protective of his captain. He _had_ had an inclination. He just hadn't understood that was what it was.

"Spock, be quiet a minute," he managed roughly. A hand moved to the Vulcan's arm to help in getting his attention, and Spock abruptly fell silent. Leonard took a moment to collect himself. "So what, _exactly_, are you saying?"

Spock's gaze had drifted to his clasped hands, and it stayed there, though his eyebrows went up some in a visual equivalent to a sigh. "Ten weeks ago, I asked if you would consent to bond with me. Now…no matter how much I may still want that, it can never take place. A Vulcan tied, once they are fully aware of that connection, can never permanently bond to another."

"Why? Are you saying you're already bonded to Jim? That the meld bonded you?"

Spock shook his head. "We are not yet bonded in that way, no; not as mates, as I wished to bond with you. At this moment it is only the inherent connection that the captain and I share."

"Then why can't you bond with anyone else?"

"It is impossible. Now that I am fully aware of it, the tie between myself and Jim would not allow it." He hesitated again. "If I had never become as aware of it in the way that I am now it would never have strengthened to the point to prevent other bonds, but now it is done. There is no way to reverse it."

"There has to be…"

Spock shook his head slowly, and the grief on his face Leonard had seen when he broke away from the meld was there again now. "There is not. That is one of the many things which I have researched, thoroughly, in the days since we left the planet."

McCoy swallowed. "All right…but…a bond like that…it's a Vulcan tradition. We don't have to have it. Humans don't have anything like that. A normal, human relationship is what we already have; what's wrong with that? So we can never be married by Vulcan laws; we could still have a human marriage. You're half human. Not that we have to be married to at all! We're doing just fine the way we are. We—"

Spock reached for his hands and took them. "But I cannot give myself to you fully. I wish to, but I cannot. I would not ask you to tie yourself to me in any way when I cannot give you all that I am."

"Spock…" He should stop, right now. He should stop arguing. Part of him already knew it wouldn't come to anything, and he knew it couldn't. Part of him had always know that Jim and Spock were meant for each other. "I don't _care_," he said anyway.

"You do," the Vulcan said quietly. "Or you would, in time. Even if nothing more comes of it, I will always be tied to Jim in this way. I will always be drawn to him whether I wish to be or not."

McCoy brow furrowed, and suddenly he was angry. Perhaps it was the most childish thought he could have had, but it wasn't _fair_. "How much sense does that make?" he demanded angrily. "If this is some Vulcan mystical ridiculousness, isn't it supposed to make _sense_? Isn't it supposed to be _logical_?"

"I do not know what it was meant to be when it began, when whatever god or evolutionary process brought it into being. However, whatever the case it is, distinctly, Vulcan. As we are now, devoted to logic, the tradition has always been logical to us. To a Vulcan, it is not strange or unfair. We are married, usually, to a betrothed chosen for us by our parents when we are children. Pairs who are betrothed are chosen for compatibility—their minds touched by a high priestess, and only betrothed if there is potential for a bond, as is required."

"So, you and T'Pring…there was potential there, I assume."

A small nod. "There was, of course. We were actually quite similar in personality, as children. I suppose it could be said that we were friends. We were often in each other's company. Both of us…changed. Even if I had not released her we may not have been married, in the end. If our bonding during the ceremony had not been successful the marriage would not have been completed."

"I see."

"Those who are tied to one another…for Vulcans it is merely seen as a way in which nature or the universe sometimes makes those choices of who should be paired for us, when it is important enough. As Vulcans do not surrender to emotions, the fact that such ties act to prevent other bonds has never been seen as wrong, or cruel in any way." Spock paused painfully. "It has never been considered that there might be an instance in which an individual _had_ surrendered to emotion—in which the exclusive nature of such a connection would cause pain."

Any anger was gone by now, and Leonard only _hurt_—for Spock, for himself—he just hurt. "Oh god, Spock…" For a few seconds he was squeezing the Vulcan's hands much tighter, but then he was letting them go and out of his seat. He couldn't be still anymore.

It was all some cruel trick. Spock had realized he didn't want to be out of his comfort zone anymore, human emotions…being in love…he couldn't handle it anymore. He'd concocted some story to end it without it seeming to be his fault—

_Stop it_, McCoy told himself firmly. That was ridiculous. Spock would never do such a thing, and the pain in the Vulcan's eyes right now was as clear as anything had ever been. He didn't want this to be happening any more than Leonard wanted it to be true, but it was, and Leonard had known it all along.

He'd paced away, nervous energy, and behind him Spock stood. "I am sorry," the Vulcan said. "The fault is mine. If I had remained in control of my emotions as a true Vulcan should I would never have approached you. I could have spared us both this."

McCoy almost laughed once, and he twisted back to look at Spock. "Are you really? Sorry?"

Spock's mouth opened and closed more than once, and then his lips were pressed into a thin line, and then his mouth opened again, but nothing came out.

"Don't feel badly if you're not; I'm not. Maybe we were both stupid, but I'm sure as hell not sorry for it."

The Vulcan frowned in confusion, and an eyebrow went up in question.

McCoy let out a heavy breath and pinched at the bridge of his nose. "Spock…Jim loves you. He's never said anything to me, but I saw it from the beginning. I'm his best friend; how could I _not_ see it? You were just too Vulcan to notice at first, and then for some god-forsaken reason you ended up fixated on me, and I…god help me, _I_ loved you. I only held you off for so long because I knew Jim did too. I didn't want to hurt him."

The doctor shook his head angrily. "Damn soap opera…if you're at fault for coming to me I'm just as much at fault for finally letting you in when I did." And again, any anger was gone as quickly as it came. He felt only tired. "But I'm _not_ sorry. I _do _love you. What else was I supposed to do? Why should I feel sorry?"

"You should not," Spock said then. "Perhaps you are correct; perhaps neither of us should. But it does not change what has happened."

Leonard's shoulders slumped. "I know." He sighed. "He really does, you know. Jim. He really does love you. He figured out how he felt about you before _I_ knew what I really wanted, that's for sure." Spock was just looking at him, and didn't seem to know how to respond to that at all. Whether he believed it or not it didn't look like it was an easy thing for him to hear, and McCoy winced.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't be putting that on you now…but you needed to know." He paced back, drawing closer to the Vulcan again. "I suppose you can decide what you want to do about it later." He stopped in front of Spock and swallowed. "But what about now?" he asked. "What are we supposed to do? Just…just stop?"

The Vulcan released a small breath. "I see no other option that would be logical," he admitted.

"Logical." Leonard huffed it, but more in weak amusement than anything. "Of course." One of Spock's hands moved tentatively to his arm, and McCoy took that as his cue. The doctor leaned up and kissed him, soundly and surely. His arms went around the Vulcan's neck and Spock held onto him for even longer then than he had when McCoy had first come in.

"All right," McCoy said quietly, letting go. Spock released him, and he straightened his uniform. "All right." He took a step back, and wouldn't Jocelyn be laughing at him now? Heart broken again—by a Vulcan no less. She'd have a field day with this one.

He didn't expect Spock to speak first then. "I am truly sorry, Leonard."

It was the first and only time he had ever used McCoy's given name aloud. The doctor wanted to smile at him. He tried to. But he couldn't.

"Goodbye, Spock."

He barely managed that. Not that it was really goodbye. The _Enterprise_ was their home and neither of them was going anywhere and they both knew it. But Spock knew what he meant.

He was almost to the door when Spock called to him again.

"Doctor?"

He turned. Spock approached him carefully, and as he did he brought something out of his pocket. "If you will accept it, I would like for you to have this."

McCoy glanced at what he was holding out. "An IDIC? I'm not Vulcan."

"No. However…I have often carried one of these symbols as a reminder of its meaning. It has always been a useful reminder that living and working among other species is an honor, a worthy endeavor of unity, and yet it became much more a cherished symbol when I entered into a relationship with you. A human. It was this item I carried the day I confessed myself to you, and I do not believe in coincidence therefore I do not believe it was one that I also carried it the day you accepted me."

Leonard swallowed. "Spock, I can't take that from you…"

"I have others."

"But if it means that much—"

"That is why I wish to give it to you, Doctor," he said gently.

Damnit. He wanted to take it but he also really didn't, but either way how was he supposed to argue with that?

Finally he nodded, and he took it anyway. "Thank you," he said. He meant it.

* * *

It was the most difficult thing that Spock had ever done, save perhaps the day he had informed his father he would be joining Starfleet rather than entering the Vulcan Science Academy. And the pain of the rift between them that had caused, so old now and something he was used to, did not compare to this. It could not.

But what else could he have done? It was the only thing that was right, and just—to release Leonard from their relationship before the situation caused him even more pain in the future than it would now. With Spock permanently tied to James Kirk in this way there was no scenario in which he and McCoy could remain together and it would not be far worse for them in the end than letting him go now.

He had done the only thing which was logical. He had done the only thing that he could do, if he truly cared for Leonard McCoy.

But there was one more duty to perform before he could rest; before he could take the time to allow the situation to settle and to try to understand what all of this would mean for all of them. Jim, too, would have to understand what had transpired. Already he would know that_ something_ had happened between them in the meld. He would be feeling it. He would feel the connection, but he would not understand it. With no background upon which to base an understanding, he would not until Spock explained it to him.

Spock knew Jim was in turmoil not only over Miramanee's death and the death of their unborn child, but over whatever it was that had happened in the meld. Once he had been sure of what he had to do in regards to McCoy, he had meant to go to Jim immediately once they had spoken. It would not be easy for him, but he thought he must. He could not allow his friend to continue to suffer when he could alleviate at least some of the confusion Spock knew he felt.

And he knew. No, they were not bonded, but now that the connection was known to him he felt the confusion, the turmoil, faintly. He knew it was Jim's and not his own. It seemed he could sense at least the very strong emotions that the one to which he was tied was feeling. That he had never known was possible before, but then again Vulcans did not speak much about anything pertaining to relationships and bonds. Like Pon Farr, it was all a very personal subject.

He hoped that Jim, as a human with no telepathic abilities, was not receiving such impressions as well. The captain would not know what they were—would not be able to identify them as anything other than his own feelings—but in was not Jim being able to identify their source that Spock was concerned about. He was concerned because he would not wish for _anyone_ to experience in any way what he was experiencing now, at this wrenching turning point in his life.

It occurred to him again that if he had remained within his Vulcan disciplines none of this would have taken place. And it was not as if he had broken them entirely. He still lived as a Vulcan. He was Vulcan, and he took a logical sort of pride in his heritage as any Vulcan did. He was not sorry he was Vulcan. But he had bent within those disciplines, just enough to allow Leonard McCoy in. If he had remained as rigid as a Vulcan truly should have—

But then he remembered the time they had spent together. He remembered what it was like to be loved.

No. He would not regret. But he had no choice but to find some way to move forward. He had done it once, after McCoy had rejected him the first time. He could do it now.

But he could not go to Jim that same evening. He had meant to, to do something as quickly as he could about his friend's turmoil and pain, but he could not. His own turmoil held him back. Spock felt shame for it, but he could not go.

It was the next day that he did. His shift ended at the same time as the captain's, and they left the bridge together. Alone in the turbolift seemed a reasonable time to say something.

"Captain…may I speak with you?"

"Thought you'd never ask." Jim smiled the sort of smile that McCoy would have called teasing, but it was weak. Any sort of smile from the captain had been so, since they left the planet. "Anyway, yes, of course, Mr. Spock. I do think we need to talk, don't we?"

Spock only inclined his head in answer, and he followed the captain back to his quarters.

"I must apologize," Spock said immediately, once the doors had closed behind them. "I am your first officer, and I am your friend, but I have been all but absent in recent days. I should not have been. You have suffered a loss, and I have not been present to offer support."

"Thank you, Spock. It's all right. I…I'll be all right. But something's been bothering you too, or you wouldn't have locked yourself away like that. I know you well enough to know that, at the least. What is it? Or can't you tell me?"

Spock shook his head slowly. "I cannot. But I will also…be all right." It might take much time, and he did not believe there would ever be a time when he would not regret that all of this had caused Leonard pain. But it wasn't precisely a lie. "I am here for another reason. Undoubtedly you have been aware that something transpired within the mind meld that we shared."

Jim's eyebrows went up. "Yes. But I thought that was just me. You felt it too? I mean, I know it had something to do with you, but…I'm sorry. I don't know what I'm saying. I have no way to…describe it."

"You do not need to. It was not 'just you.' It was not something that you merely felt, but rather something that was discovered between us when our minds were joined. As a Vulcan, I understand it. I promised you, in the meld, that I would explain it to you, and I have been remiss until now."

Jim nodded a little. "Right…right. Yes, I remember that much now. And I remember feeling like…like I'd found something—something more important than anything else, and again, I remember feeling like it was all tied to you somehow, but how much sense does that make? "

There was something he was not saying. Spock knew Jim well enough to see it in his face. It was as if his friend understood more than he was saying, but he didn't wish to confess it. There was a reason that he was afraid to do so.

Had McCoy been right? Did Jim…?

It would not be at all illogical, really. Even if they had not been truly aware of it until now, if Vulcan tradition was to be believed the connection between them had always been there. If Jim had somehow sensed it in some way before now that sense might have translated to emotions.

"It is an ancient Vulcan mysticism," Spock began carefully. "The belief that for some there is one individual to whom they are forever tied. As I am only half Vulcan I had never considered that there might be such a person that I was…'meant to find,' as it were. However, when we melded, what we both experienced at that moment was such a connection making itself known."

The captain's eyes were wide, but not disbelieving. "So we're…connected, somehow."

"The closest translation of the Vulcan word for it would be 'soulmate,' though the romantic connotation that Standard word implies is not required by our definition of such a connection." That had to be clear. He cared for Jim as anyone would for a close friend, certainly, but he did not know if he did or would or could feel anything else. He could not know that now.

To even consider such a thing now, so soon, would seem like a betrayal.

Jim blinked, and though he covered it well he seemed distinctly…disappointed. "Ah. I see. Just a…logical, Vulcan thing then?"

He could not lie. Not to Jim. "No. As we have adapted it into our logical culture it can be seen as such as we treat it now, but it is a tradition that originates long before we adopted logic." He hesitated. "In all honesty it 'was' quite a romantic notion, in times past. There are very few recorded instances in which such connections have not resulted in that sort of relationship. I…only wished to make it clear that it was not required. That nothing is required. I only wished to help you to understand what had happened."

A flicker of hope, in the captain's expression. Neither of them had sat down, both too anxious to even consider it, but Jim had paced away from him. Now he came back. "Spock, I…I think there's something I need to tell you…"

The twist in his gut gripped him in an instant, and Spock spoke before he realized that it was panic. "Please do not."

Jim stopped dead in his tracks, only a pace or two away. A hand had begun to reach out and it dropped now. The captain's mouth opened in shock. He apparently had not considered that his Vulcan first officer might already have any idea what he meant. "Spock…?"

Spock blinked, ashamed at his emotional outburst. "I'm sorry, Captain…Jim. I…realize that whether or not it is required to, the discovery of this tie between us may indeed bring change. I am not saying that I am or will always be opposed to the possibility." Why was he saying that? "What I am saying is that I…cannot yet make such determinations."

Jim swallowed and nodded carefully. "You…need time." Spock inclined his head in answer, and the captain nodded. "All right. It's all right. I can understand that. I'm sorry."

"You have no need to apologize."

"No, I'm sorry. Really. This is probably even more confusing for you than it is for me. You're just much better at not showing it." Spock didn't answer that. Though Jim couldn't know exactly how or why he was so right, he _was_ correct.

"Anyway," Jim was saying. "One step at a time, right?" He sighed. "Are ah…are you quite through keeping yourself locked in your quarters, Mr. Spock? Tomorrow evening would be our usual day for chess, if you are."

"I will arrive at the usual time," the Vulcan agreed. He turned to go, but he paused before he did. "Thank you, Jim. For your understanding."

"Of course, Spock."

The answer was quiet, and Spock nodded in acknowledgement and was gone.

* * *

Leonard thought he could do it. He had always prided himself on being the type who didn't really _need_ anyone. He thought that stubbornness would reassert itself and he would be just fine.

He thought wrong, of course. Stubbornness had never left him, and now all it did was remind him that he was alone. Well, not alone. Jim was his friend. Spock would always be a friend, even if he was nothing more anymore. Or shouldn't be.

But McCoy had grown used to their closeness. He realized that part of him really had begun to hope that, maybe, this thing they'd built for themselves here didn't have to end. When Spock had mentioned bonding all those weeks ago now, a large part of him had panicked but the rest of him had wanted it.

Now it didn't matter.

Nothing had changed publicly before so nothing did now, between any of them. Spock must have talked to Jim by now but nothing seemed any different—at least not to anyone who didn't know the captain and first officer as well as McCoy did. Nothing really changed, but Leonard saw the new hope in Jim's eyes when he looked at Spock. He could tell Jim wasn't pushing, and that was good. Spock probably couldn't handle that right now.

Still, it all seemed a little ridiculous.

They all pretended everything was just fine for weeks. Business as usual, teasing as usual, and more than one line-of-duty scare.

But everything wasn't fine. Spock was holding the captain at arm's length in a way, even if no one else saw it. The Vulcan was being more than careful not to hurt McCoy's feelings, he knew, and he wished Spock would understand that it didn't matter. He was hurt. He was going to be hurt. It wasn't Spock's fault and he needed to stop walking on blasted eggshells.

"What are you doing?" he demanded finally. He was tired of it. He caught Spock outside his quarters after a duty shift and followed him inside.

"To what are you referring, Doctor?"

"I mean with Jim! He loves you and you _know_ it now, don't you? So why are you being such an idiot?"

"It is in no way 'idiotic' to avoid rushing into—"

"How would it be rushing? He's felt the way he has for years, and I think at least on some level you're realizing you care about him that way, too."

The Vulcan frowned at him. "Even if that were the case, it would not be any business of yours."

McCoy didn't realize how angry he'd been until that moment. He couldn't really be angry when it was happening—when Spock was telling him what had to happen, those weeks ago—but now it had all had time to fester. And he couldn't be angry with Spock—maybe he was angry at the universe, or himself, or something else—but whatever he was angry with he wasn't only hurt. He was definitely angry.

"Of course it's my business! I had to give you up because of some damned Vulcan magic between you two! If the universe is going to go to that much trouble, why in the Sam Hill are you beating around the bush? Some kind of half-cocked loyalty to me?" Spock just stared at him, and it seemed he'd struck a nerve. "That's ridiculous, Spock. You're the one said we could never—"

"That does not mean that I am not conscious of or should not concern myself with your feelings, Doctor."

"Well _that's_ something you never would have said two years ago."

"Doctor, please; it is not your concern."

"Jim is my friend. That _makes_ it my concern. Now what've you told him?!"

The Vulcan sighed ever so slightly. "I merely explained the existence and nature of the connection between us. I made it clear that it is not necessary for it to result in anything at all."

"Well he still thinks it's going to, eventually. I can _see _that. Don't you see it? He's still pining after you, and if you _hurt_ him—"

"It is not my wish to harm anyone," Spock said, very quietly. His hands were clasped tightly behind his back now, and he'd turned mostly away.

Weeks ago that would have been his cue to do his best to put the anger away. Weeks ago he would have wanted to. McCoy wanted to _now_, but the fact was that _he_ hurt. It hurt knowing he could never have Spock back. And no, he still wasn't angry _at_ Spock, but the anger was there just the same. He'd been trying to channel it, just now, into concern for Jim. Into seeing that if he couldn't be happy his friends would happy…

It wasn't working as well as he wanted, and Spock was the only person there it could release itself on. As it often was when he lost his temper it was like being outside himself, wanting to stop but unable to. "Good. You'd better not, you green-blood, pointed-eared bastard! If you think I'm just going to stand by and watch you hurt Jim too just because your damned Vulcan self is _confused_ you—!"

And then he did stop. It wasn't often he could really stop himself, but he did. He stopped abruptly and Spock turned to stare at him. The dark eyes were hurt but the Vulcan was quiet and stoic as he ever was, and Leonard knew he'd crossed a line.

He left before he could make it any worse.

McCoy fled to his own quarters, and as he went a hand closed around the small IDIC in his pocket and squeezed hard enough to be painful.


	5. Chapter 5

Thanks so much for the support you guys! I literally could not do this without you. :)

This chapter is all based around the episode _For the World is Hollow and I Have Touched the Sky_, because seriously, McCoy spent the episode thinking he was gonna die and I think that deserves a heck of a lot more attention than it got. And did anyone notice how even in the original episode a) Spock didn't seem surprised when Jim told him and b) the _whole freaking episode_ was Spock and McCoy staring meaningfully and also kind of sadly at each other? You'd think hey, Kirk is McCoy's best friend and they'd focus more on Kirk's freakout over this, but no, they focus on Spock looking looking all sad...therefore this chapter. :P

Chapter 5

It made a strange sort of sense, McCoy thought grimly. The universe had already turned against him; why _wouldn't_ it simply go ahead and finish the job?

He kept the test results from Christine and any other prying eyes in sickbay, at least for now. It would take a few days to finish running the standard regular physicals for the crew and Chapel had to double-check everything before he made his final report to the captain. He had that long to keep it to himself.

He had that long to figure out how to process the fact that he was dying.

At first he didn't. For the first two days he pushed it to the back of his mind and focused on crew physicals. He told himself it didn't matter. What did he really want out of life anyway? He wanted to help people and he'd been doing that; it was why he'd become a doctor. If the amount of time he'd be able to do it was going to be shorter than he thought, well…

He knew he didn't want the entire ship to know, at the very least. He didn't want their sympathy. He just wanted to work.

Christine would know when she checked over the physical results. Jim would have to know, as the captain. He would be the one who had to search for a decent replacement for his position.

And then he realized that no matter what had happened, Spock deserved to know. He deserved to know before anyone else, really .

But there had been the scene in Spock's quarters a few days ago. They hadn't spoken since, and Leonard didn't know if the Vulcan wanted to talk to him at all. McCoy knew he needed to apologize, but he wasn't sure how.

He thought about going back, but he sent a message to Spock's personal computer asking to speak with him instead. Then he waited in his quarters after his shift, anxiously wondering if Spock would even open the message. If he did, he would come or he wouldn't.

Leonard had to apologize, at the very least. If he got the rest out he got it out.

The chime at his door startled him out of his thoughts, and when he realized what he'd heard his stomach clenched. "Come in," he called.

He almost hoped it wasn't Spock, but it was.

"Doctor." The Vulcan stepped inside and allowed the doors to close behind him. "I received your message. Are you all right?"

McCoy let out a breath and stood. "No…I'm not. I uh…I need to apologize for the way I acted the other day. I was out of line. I mean I _am_ worried about Jim in all of this, but I never meant for it to come out that way."

"Your reaction was not unexpected. You _are_ known for your temper, Doctor. I…understand. If it is forgiveness you seek, I assure you it is not needed."

Leonard nodded in thanks at that, and let his gaze drop to the desk.

"Is there something else?" Spock asked. Even without looking at him McCoy could detect the veiled concern in his voice. He'd come to know the Vulcan that well in the months they were together.

The doctor made a face and nodded again. He picked up the PADD from his desk and held it out. "There's something else you need to know. I'm sorry, it'll be easier if you just…read this."

Spock came close enough to take the PADD from him, and as close to wary as he ever looked he began to scan the contents of the report on the small screen. As he read his brow furrowed. At one point the Vulcan's breath hitched, and Leonard felt it like a knife in his chest.

"Xenopolycethemia," he said aloud, repeating what Spock was already reading. "It's not curable. Not yet, anyway. I would know, but I've already checked up on new research…no one's far enough on anything for there to be any point in hoping. I've got about a year. Probably less. I haven't told anyone else yet; I thought you deserved to know first."

Spock didn't look up until he had control of himself, the grief McCoy had seen flash across his face carefully locked away. His voice, though, was rough when he spoke. "Doctor…" He cleared his throat.

"I'll be able to stay on the job through most of that time; I'm not going anywhere for a while," Leonard told him.

Spock nodded. "What of when you must?"

McCoy blinked. "I don't know. I don't guess I'd thought that far."

The Vulcan paced away from him, hands clasped behind his back. "You have no surviving family other than your daughter."

"That's right…I'll have to tell her, but I wouldn't burden her like that. Not much is going to happen until then, but those last couple of months…She's a nurse, but she's young, and on her own. She doesn't even live on the same planet as her mother anymore. I couldn't do that to her." He swallowed. "There are Starfleet medical facilities for…things like this."

"No," Spock said quietly. "When the time comes, I will leave the _Enterprise_ with you for as long as you are in need of me. I will not allow you to be alone."

"Spock…I'm grateful you'd be wiling to do that, but—"

"I do not take shore leave, as a general rule. I have quite enough saved that a leave of absence of even a significant amount of time would cause no disruption in my Starfleet service or any breach of protocol."

Now what? That had been his main protest point.

"Where would we go if not one of Starfleet's facilities?"

"My parents' home would be open to us. You could receive superior care there, on Vulcan, and would need not remain in any medical facility. It would be far more comfortable."

Leonard frowned in confusion. "But wouldn't Sarek and Amanda think that's strange? Do they even know what we were?"

"My mother is aware. My father is not, but it will be explained to him. He will understand my obligation."

"Spock, I don't want you doing anything out of some sense of responsibility."

Finally Spock looked back at him. "It is much more than that, Doctor."

McCoy swallowed. "I know…I know, I'm sorry, I just….are you sure that's wise? It'd be hard to explain to Jim why you're doing it without telling him what happened between us."

"I am certain he would do the same for you, as your friend, but he is the Captain. It is much more logical for me to take extended leave than he. That explanation should suffice." Spock came back to where he was standing, then. "Whatever it requires, if you will allow me I must do this. I _want_ to do this—to remain at your side through this difficult time. I could do no less for one who has meant as much to me as have you."

He moved away from the desk and Spock followed him as if spotting him, as if afraid he might topple over. ""I understand…I just need to think about all this."

It was a better picture than he'd been seeing until now: dying with Spock at his side rather than alone in some Starfleet hospital room no bigger or better than a brig cell. Would Joanna even come to see him? Jocelyn would probably hear about it from Jo, but would she even care? Strangely he thought it might hurt if she didn't.

Joanna…

He reached the divider between the main section of his quarters and the bedroom, and steadied himself with a hand against it. He barely saw her as it was. He hadn't seen her grow up. Not really. They wrote now, they were on decent terms, but it had been far too long since he'd seen her and now he wouldn't have the chance to spend more time with her later. Too late…

"Doctor?"

It wasn't only that. Too many thoughts and not enough brain. Leonard didn't realize his knees were buckling until Spock's arms were around him and lowering him to the floor. The Vulcan knelt with him, still holding onto him.

"Spock…I'm dying," he gasped. He was breathing too hard. Any worse and he'd be hyperventilating. When had that started?

The arms around him tightened and he felt a head resting against his as he started to shiver. "I am here," Spock told him.

Somehow that made it all at least a little bit better.

* * *

The doctor leaned farther into his chest, shaking, and Spock could do nothing more than hold him. He did not know what else he could or should say.

But he knew he would keep his word. It would be more painful, he knew, even than what he had done weeks ago…but he would be at Leonard McCoy's side until he left this existence. He could do nothing else. Spock's chest ached even now, to think of it, to think of the light leaving the amused blue eyes. He shut his own tightly.

The deck was cool beneath him. Had it always been this cold? Of course the _Enterprise_ seemed cold everywhere, in comparison to Vulcan. That was why he kept his quarters warmer. But had the deck plates always seemed this chilling?

McCoy did not cry. He was an emotional individual, but that particular human tendency was not much part of his character. He preferred to angry. Now, though, the doctor was quiet. When it had been long enough Spock supposed that he had fallen asleep. Perhaps that was good.

Gently he lifted the doctor in his arms, and brought him to his bed. He removed McCoy's boots and the confining blue uniform tunic, and pulled the blankets to his chest.

He turned to go, but a voice called softly behind him.

"Spock?"

He went back to the edge of the bed. "Yes, Doctor?"

"You've never met Joanna."

Spock sat tentatively on the edge of the bed at McCoy's side. "I have not. I do not believe anyone on the _Enterprise _has."

"Jim has…once when she was younger…one of the few times I've seen her myself since Jocelyn and I divorced." The doctor swallowed. "I want you to meet her…even if it doesn't happen before I'm gone."

It was an effort to keep his face from betraying any emotion at that. "I would be honored to know her."

McCoy smirked. "I think she'd like you…she has a tendency to be rather matter-of-fact…clinical, even. The kind of person who'd get along with a Vulcan. Maybe she ended up that way trying to _not_ end up like her mother. I don't know." The amusement on his face faded, and he rubbed at a temple. "God…she's not a child anymore…it's not like she wants anyone looking over her shoulder, but I always thought I'd be there if she really needed me."

He was quiet a moment, and then he reached for Spock's hand that rested on the mattress. Spock allowed him to take it.

"Spock…could you…I don't want to ask too much, but could you maybe…check on her every now and then? You don't have to tell her about us…just that you knew me…"

"That is hardly too much, Doctor." Spock gently squeezed the hand in his for emphasis. "I promise you that your daughter will be watched over. She will never lack for any help that I can provide."

McCoy nodded in thanks, and his eyes closed.

Spock released his hand and stood. "Rest now," he said quietly. It needn't have been said; it seemed the doctor was already asleep or very soon to be.

He nearly left, but he was concerned about McCoy's possible state when he woke. He turned around at the door and went back to the desk instead. He could search the ship's databases just as easily from the doctor's computer terminal as from his own.

* * *

McCoy didn't remember that he hadn't slept in the two days since seeing his test results until he woke up in the middle of ship's night a few hours later. In his socks, pants, and black t-shirt he was in his own bed, covered by the blankets pulled up to his chest. He didn't remember how he'd gotten there.

He sat up slowly, and was able to see through the divider that the light was still on out in the main room of his quarters. Confused, he padded out of the bedroom.

Spock was at his desk, using his computer console, and in a moment everything that had happened before he drifted off came back to him. He remembered Spock holding him. He remembered being carried to his bed and most of the softly spoken conversation that had followed…the things Spock had promised him. He stood where he was for a moment, trying not to draw attention to himself. He just wanted to watch the Vulcan for a little while.

But Spock's Vulcan hearing alerted him he was no longer alone, and he looked up and shut off the computer. "You are correct," he said. "There is no new research pertaining to Xenopolycethemia that seems at all promising."

Leonard smiled a little. "Had to see for yourself, did you?"

Spock didn't answer. Instead he stood and came to the doctor's side, and rested a hand on his arm questioningly.

"I'm all right, Spock…I guess I just didn't realize I hadn't really thought about it until I tried to talk about it."

He didn't know what to say after that. There were things he _needed_ to say but he didn't know where to start.

"I'll let you do it," he said finally. He didn't have to explain what he meant. Spock nodded in answer, and he felt it against his hair. He didn't know the Vulcan had moved so close until then. He looked that way in mild surprise, and felt lips pressed to the center of his forehead that had probably been meant for his temple.

"Spock…I'm letting you come with me then because I'm too selfish to say I'd rather die alone. That doesn't mean…" He winced, and it hurt to do it but he purposely took Spock's shoulders and pushed him just enough to put some distance between them. "You know what I'm saying, don't you? If one of the closest friends I have wants to see me off, I'm not going to argue, but that's…that's all. That's all I mean. That's all it can be. If it were any more it wouldn't be right. It wouldn't be what we had; it'd be sympathy."

"You must know that is not all that I—"

"I know," he said quickly. He let himself smile. "I know how you feel, Spock. You made sure I knew. I know, and you're going to be there. That's enough. We can't fall back into the way we were just because of this. It'd be harder for you later, and I don't want that."

The Vulcan's eyebrows went up, but it seemed to be in tired agreement more than anything. Finally he nodded, very slowly. "You do have your moments of wisdom, Doctor." He moved away again, not far but enough for it to be more appropriate. His arms crossed loosely in front of him, and Leonard let his hands drop from the Vulcan's shoulders.

"You'll be all right, you know," McCoy told him. Spock looked doubtful—that look he had that managed to be skeptical without being emotional. It was still probably a little more than a face a full Vulcan would usually make, yet it was perfectly acceptable. It was almost funny how many looks he had like that; the line he managed to tow so carefully. Leonard hesitated to use the word adorable, even to himself, but it kind of was.

The doctor leaned back against the partition behind him and shrugged, crossing his own arms. "Come on, Spock, do you really think the powers that be would be would be nudging you toward Jim if there wasn't something there? That wouldn't be logical, would it?"

"They seem to be doing quite a bit more than nudging," the Vulcan answered dryly.

"Either way, he's going to need you. I won't be here. Do you realize he doesn't really let himself rely on anyone other than the two of us? And sometimes he has trouble even doing that. Once I'm gone you'll be all he has left. You understand that, don't you?"

He indicated that he did, and McCoy studied him for a minute or two. "You told me once that feelings were like energy…never created or destroyed. Only discovered or forgotten, accepted or pushed away. Maybe you should listen to _yourself_. If that's true, then if there's supposed to be something more between you and Jim, it's there. You just have to find it…or let it find you. You're not doing that. I think you're fighting it. I think you're making it all a lot harder than it has to be."

Leonard couldn't lie to himself and pretend it didn't hurt at all to be saying these things…pushing Spock to someone else. But he didn't want either of his friends to be alone in the future, and anyway it would be better for Spock and Jim and everyone else if Spock figured out what the hell the universe was up to.

"Anyway…what do I know; I'm just an old country doctor."

* * *

McCoy didn't expect Christine to call the captain down to sickbay the moment she ran across his results in the physicals report, but it didn't matter. Jim needed to know anyway. It wasn't any easier than telling Spock, but he managed it.

It was after that that everything began to derail: Yonada. Natira. The hollow asteroid that was a world and the woman who offered him a place in hers.

He couldn't tell himself he wasn't attracted to her. He was. She was kind and beautiful and she offered him a life with her. An escape. Love. A future, as short as it might be.

"Oh if you only knew how I needed some kind of future, Natira."

"You have…lived a lonely life?"

"Yes. Very lonely." A few short years with Jocelyn and then Joanna that had ended in disaster. A few short months with Spock. He supposed he'd had more in his life than many people and he should be thankful for it. He was. But beyond all of that he_ had_ been more than a bit lonely. After learning he could never keep Spock…before learning of his illness…the future had seemed to stretch out long and lonely indeed.

She scarcely flinched when he told her he had but a year to live.

"Until I saw you there was nothing in my heart; it sustained my life, but nothing more. Now it…sings," she told him. "I could be happy to have that feeling for but a _day_…a week, a month…a year. Whatever the creators hold in store for us."

She offered him a way to save Spock the pain of watching over him in his finals days. She offered him a way to cut ties more cleanly with the life he had led. She offered him unconditional comfort and love that he sorely needed.

It made as much sense as anything else.

* * *

Yonada was a world to its people. They did not know it was also a ship—a ship that was no longer on course and was now set to collide with a nearby planet in less than a year if that could not be corrected.

That was why Spock went with Jim to search for the control room. They left McCoy with Natira, the people's leader, who seemed to show a certain interest in him. Spock wondered if the pang in his chest were jealously, or merely continued distress over the doctor's condition.

They discovered the Oracle room, hoping the control room would be near, but to the people of Yonada it was a sacred place. When they were discovered they were asked to leave and not to return.

They were held on the makeshift "surface" until McCoy joined them.

That was when he told them he was not returning with them to the _Enterprise_.

Jim blinked at him. "Bones, this isn't a planet; it's a space ship on a collision course with Darran V."

"I'm on a…kind of a collision course myself, Jim."

"Dr. McCoy, I _order _you to return with us." He was trying to be the captain, but Spock heard the beginnings of panic in his voice.

"And I refuse," McCoy answered.

"Bones, if we can't correct the course of this 'ship' we'll have to blast it out of space."

"I intend to stay on this ship with these people, whatever happens."

How could this be? Spock swallowed and finally managed to speak. Had the captain not been standing beside them, he might have shaken McCoy. "Your decision is most illogical, Doctor."

Leonard looked at him, then; finally, truly looked at him. "Is it, Mr. Spock? Is it really?" And it wasn't. He was right. "Natira's asked me to stay, and I'm staying." And if she could give him more than Spock knew he could…

"As her husband?" Jim asked quietly.

"Yes." McCoy tried to smile. "Is that too much to ask, Jim?"

Jim, who knew of the doctor's condition by now, could not answer that. The captain swallowed hard and flipped his communicator open. "Kirk to _Enterprise_."

"_Scott here, Captain_."

"We're beaming over. Lock in on our signal."

"_Aye, Captain_."

"And transport Mr. Spock and myself immediately."

"_Captain, what about Dr. McCoy_?"

Jim tried one more time, wordlessly. He looked at McCoy, pleading, but the doctor took a step back. "He's staying, Scotty."

"Captain," Spock said before Jim could sign off. "I wish to remain for a moment."

Jim looked at him in confusion, but he nodded. "Mr. Scott, belay the order to transport Mr. Spock right now. He'll signal you when he's ready."

"_Aye, sir_."

Jim put away the communicator. He looked at Leonard again, but he didn't seem to know what to say. In seconds he was gone.

"Why are you still here, Spock?"

The Vulcan took a step closer. "I had hoped to dissuade you."

"That's not going to happen."

"Doctor—"

"Don't you understand, Spock? It's easier this way—for all of us. It's better. You don't have to worry about me anymore, and neither does Jim. You can move on, and you can get started on it sooner rather than later."

"But do you truly care for her?"

McCoy nodded. "I do. Maybe not as much as I do for you, but that doesn't matter, does it? I can't have you. And if I'm going to die anyway don't I deserve someone I _can_ have?"

"Does she know?"

"She knows. She cares for me enough that it doesn't matter to her. She loves me, for as long as she can have me. That's all anyone really wants out of life, isn't it?"

Spock started to reach out, but pulled his hand back. "I suppose that it is."

"If one is human, anyway, hmm?" And McCoy smiled weakly. The smile faded after a moment. "Thank you anyway…for everything you promised to do for me. I'm not trying to make light of it. It means maybe more to me than you can know that you'd do it. But I know it wouldn't have been easy, and this will save you from most of it. That much I'm glad of, at least."

"I will keep the promise that remains," Spock said. "I will watch over your daughter as long as I am able."

"I know you will. Thank you." A hand pushed into the doctor's pocket, seemed to close around something, and instinctively Spock knew what he carried there. He felt cold inside, but a piece of him warmed to know that Leonard did not plan to forget him. "Goodbye, Spock."

* * *

But it was not the last Spock saw of Leonard McCoy. In being initiated into Yonada's culture, the doctor learned enough to direct them to the asteroid ship's control room. He contacted the _Enterprise_, which had not left orbit, to tell them.

The Oracle, the computer that controlled Yonda, punished him for doing so. It was not only the ship's course Jim and Spock returned to Yonada against the Oracle's orders to save, but McCoy himself.

The Oracle was defeated. Yonada's control room was found, and the ship's course corrected. The people learned that their world was a ship. They learned the truth and were freed from the computer that had dictated their lives.

And Spock discovered a database compiled by their ancestors…medical knowledge far beyond that of the Federation. Enough to save McCoy's life.

The doctor returned to the Enterprise then. He said goodbye to Natira and she graciously let him go without complaint. It was clear she still care for him, but if he was to live she wanted him to have a full life—out among the stars, where he belonged, in the world he was used to and not trapped in hers.

She was a remarkable woman indeed.

But still it was not so simple as that. Perhaps it was the stress on his body caused by the Oracle's punishment before they had shut it down, or some genetic quirk, or another reason entirely…but McCoy's Xenopolycethemia worsened much more quickly than the disease usually did in the days that followed. By the end of it he was confined to sickbay while Spock worked tirelessly with the medical staff. They had to decipher the ancient database he had copied on Yonada enough to synthesize the cure they knew was held within it. He wanted to be the one at McCoy's side, but he was needed for translation. It was often Jim that sat with Leonard, instead.

Hope turned to worry turned to dread as the doctor neared death, and finally to tentative hope once more, as the medical lab teams seemed to have succeeded. Spock wondered when he had become able to recognize emotions in himself as clearly as he sometimes did now. He wondered when he had become, at least inwardly, someone he had never thought he could be.

"So…you've got it, then?"

Leonard blinked up at him blearily from a biobed, late in ship's night.

"Yes. If the new drug behaves as it should, you will be well tomorrow."

"'s Jim know?"

"I contacted him as soon as we were certain. He will be here in the morning when we attempt to administer the cure."

McCoy grunted in acknowledgement, and his eyes were already closing again. He was in pain, but he could be given no more medications for a few more hours yet.

The doctor forced his eyes open one more time. They were not dry. "I…love you…I love you…whatever…happens…"

* * *

"All right…that was probably the single stupidest thing either of us has ever done," Leonard declared with a groan. "We can't do that again."

The cure had worked. Yesterday morning he'd been at death's door, but the cure derived from the database on Yonada had worked. Spock and his medical staff had saved his life. This afternoon he had been released to his quarters and Spock had walked with him here.

Then they had done something profoundly idiotic.

"I concur," Spock agreed. He sat on the opposite side of the bed, leaning to collect his clothes from the floor. Leonard was already half dressed.

Wait, why was Spock moving slower than he was? He was the one who'd been deathly ill for a week, and Spock was a Vulcan.

"Spock? Are you all right?" The Vulcan stood slowly, and began to push his legs into his pants. He didn't answer. He pulled his shirts over his head, but when he picked up a boot and lifted a leg to put it on he overbalanced and tripped into the wall.

Vulcans didn't do that.

"Spock!"

Leonard hurried around the bed, just now finished dressing himself, and knelt beside the Vulcan. Spock was crumpled against the wall, a hand to his head.

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

"I am all right…my head aches; that is all."

"Vulcan's don't just get headaches any more than they get the common cold, Spock. What's going on?" he demanded anxiously. McCoy clutched at the Vulcan's wrist until he looked up. "When did this start?" he asked, shifting quickly into doctor mode.

Spock swallowed, and he looked strangely defeated when he answered. He shifted around and sat back against the wall, grimacing. "It began approximately one hour ago…when we began."

Leonard froze. "What? What are you saying?"

"It is…a warning."

It took a moment to process what he meant. "You can't mean that Vulcan voodoo is doing this to you—!"

"I was not aware that it would. However, now that is has I am quite certain of the cause."

"No…you're crazy. That can't be it."

"It is. It is making itself known, but you would not understand the method…you would not understand how I know," he amended.

"But…!" It wasn't right. It wasn't right at all. "If it started as soon as we did why didn't you say something?" McCoy asked roughly.

The Vulcan made a small face. "I…I did not wish to. When it began I did not wish to stop. I knew then that this would be the last time that I could be with you."

Leonard choked quietly and pushed abruptly back to his feet. He was pacing, but he wasn't sure why. Spock was still on the floor against the wall.

"Of all the damned ridiculous things…! God!"

He was still not at full strength, and already tired. Soon enough he dropped back to the floor beside the Vulcan, sliding down the wall next to him.

"How's your head?" he asked weakly.

"The pain is…subsiding."

McCoy bit the inside of his lip. "You…you shouted. You don't usually do that. Please don't tell me pain is all you got out of—"

Spock shook his head.

"Should I…get farther away, or something?"

He shook his head again, and McCoy stayed where he was. He scrubbed at his face with his hands and waited. Eventually Spock got up. He finished putting his boots on and then just stood in the middle of the bedroom as if not quite certain what to do with himself. His eyes were distant.

Leonard felt the way he looked.

He sighed and steered the Vulcan back to the edge of the bed. "Look, just…just sit back down until you're sure you're all right." He did, and the doctor sat with him.

"I really do have to let you go, don't I?" McCoy whispered at length.

"I am sorry. I—"

"Would you stop apologizing for things that aren't your fault?"

So this was it, then. He didn't know part of him had held out a tiny spark of hope until it was suddenly extinguished. From the look on Spock's face, he was experiencing something about the same.

And now he wasn't dying. Now he had the rest of his life ahead of him again. They all did. Spock and Jim and…and apparently the universe wanted Spock with Jim, and whether that would happen or not he didn't know, but it was clear now that Spock could never be _his_ again.

The anger was back. He didn't want it, but he knew it would only grow worse.

His chest grew tight, but he knew what had to be done. If Spock would do it.

"Spock…Spock, I don't want to hate Jim. I don't want to hate you or whatever's doing this to us or anything else. I…I already have to fight hard enough not to hate Jocelyn, and I still do a lot of the time. I can't do this…"

"Leonard…"

"I know myself, Spock. I will. I won't want to, but I will. I don't want to end up old and bitter over this. I don't want to lose either of you. You and Jim are all I have."

Spock just looked at him, stricken, and McCoy knew the Vulcan understood what he was saying.

"You know it's the only way we'll get past this now. It's the only way we can keep everything the three of us had before you and I ever started. It was bad enough weeks ago…the first time. Within weeks I was…was losing it at you. I was worse than I've ever been. I'm afraid it would only get worse."

Spock winced. "I have more confidence in you than that, Doctor…"

"Well I don't! I'll either be angry again, or some part of me will want you back…It's always dangerous out here, Spock. What if something like this happens again?" he said, gesturing between them and at the bed. "I don't want to hurt you, but what if I'm not thinking any more than I was today? What if _we're_ not? And don't tell me you're a Vulcan and it won't happen because it just did. You don't have that excuse anymore."

Spock's eyes closed tightly.

"Spock? I'm sorry…I don't like it any more than you do; you have _no idea_ how much I don't want to be right, but I am." McCoy swallowed. "You've always been my friend, Spock, no matter how much we fought. I always want you to be. I don't want that to change," he stressed. "With Jim either. I just…I don't want us to fall apart."

Instead of answering Spock opened his eyes and pulled the doctor to him. He tugged them down until they were lying pressed together on the bed.

"Spock…?"

"I understand," the Vulcan told him roughly. "Perhaps you are correct, but it can wait until morning, can it not?"

McCoy's vision blurred at that, and he blinked in frustration. "Right…morning's good…"

He kept his eyes open long enough to scan Spock's face for any signs of pain, but there were none. It seemed simply lying here this way didn't trigger whatever sleeping together had triggered before. The connection the Vulcan shared with his captain their friend was not attacking him over merely this.

When he was sure he closed his eyes and buried his face in Spock's shoulder.

He held on tighter than he had ever held onto anything.

* * *

Spock did not sleep. He spent long hours while the doctor slept in his arms examining everything that McCoy had said and everything that had happened.

In the end he could not refute the logic, painful though it was.

They had turned a comfortable balance into a fragile one, when they initiated a relationship. The bond discovered between himself and Jim Kirk had only served to make that clear. Was it their fault? Had they acted against the wishes of some god or gods?

Leonard was more correct than he knew. If the three of them were to have a chance to begin again, or come as close to a new beginning as they could…the mistake had to be erased.

But it still did not feel like a mistake. Spock knew that he loved Leonard McCoy and that he always would.

And whatever he could do for McCoy, he could not make _himself _forget.

So be it. It was price he would pay for his deviation from his Vulcan upbringing. He did not regret it. He only regretted that it had caused Leonard pain. At least he could take that pain away now.

The doctor was still sleeping as morning neared. Spock disentangled himself from McCoy's limbs and sat up. Carefully he tucked the smaller man under his blankets and arranged him in a position in which he more usually slept.

Then the Vulcan gently pressed his fingertips to doctor's face. He spoke softly. Their minds joined. With pain in each breath, he instructed Leonard McCoy's mind to lock away any memory and any aspect of any memory that pertained to the relationship they had shared and the thoughts and feelings that had led to it.

_Do not forget that I love you. It cannot be conscious knowledge, but do not forget. I shall love you always. _

He found things, in Leonard's mind—things he had not quite known before. The fondness the doctor had felt for him early on, even in friendship. Those things would remain, and Spock was glad to know they were there. Not everything was lost. The would fight, as they always had…but behind it would be these things, and he would know it for certain in future.

Perhaps that would make it easier.

When he pulled away, disconnecting their minds, McCoy sighed. He relaxed in sleep, the lines in his face easing somewhat.

That hurt more than all the rest.

He nearly stepped on something turning slowly to go. It was the small IDIC, likely fallen out of the doctor's pocket when they had undressed in a rush hours before. He had nearly forgotten about it; he could not leave it here for McCoy to find. Leonard would no longer understand why he had it.

Spock picked it up and was gone.


	6. Chapter 6

Thanks, as always, for the love you guys. :) I live to hear from ya'll, lol. And now that I've finished the other TOS one, this is my only ongoing story and I don't have the time to start another yet. So hopefully this one will keep enough of you interested. :P

Anyway, I also apologize if I only get a chapter up here once a week or so. School is getting worse. We have quarters, not semesters, so I'm actually in the middle of a term and not just starting one. So I've got a lot to do already. But I'm doing my best! :)

Hmm. I got halfway through this chapter and realized I was having Farscape John/Aeryn flashbacks. :P Oh well. (If you have no idea what I mean, WATCH THAT SHOW. IT"S ONLY 4 SEASONS AND A MINISERIES JUST DO IT.) Has anyone ever thought that Spock and Aeryn are kind of a lot alike? And also, if you put John Crichton in a room with Kirk and McCoy (especially nu!Kirk and nu!McCoy) they'd all three be best friends in like five seconds? Just a thought. Couldn't help drawing parallels when I realized how much epic angst-ness this was becoming. :P Which is that show in a nutshell.

New episodes referenced in this chapter are _The Tholian Web_, _Plato's Stepchildren_, and _The Empath_, though only the last one really heavily.

Chapter 6

2285

"He must have done what I wanted him to do, because that's the last I remembered of any of it until a few hours ago." Bones turned the IDIC over in his hands. "When I found this." Then he was quiet, alternately staring at the floor and glancing anxiously up at Jim.

Everything was short-circuiting, still. But Jim was sure of one thing. "That actually explains a lot," he managed finally.

McCoy grimaced. "Jim, I swear to god if I'd known it was my fault you two got off to such a rough start…"

Jim waved him off and climbed slowly to his feet. He scrubbed at his face, which was beginning to feel rough.

He didn't make it far. He all but stumbled into the doctor's desk and had to sit down again. At least he had a chair now, and the desk to lean over.

Why couldn't he breathe right?

"Jim?" McCoy was trying to get up himself, and that voice indicated the beginning of a shift to Doctor.

"Fifteen years," Jim said, and he wasn't even certain himself whether or not he was all there. "He kept all of that to himself for more than _fifteen years_."

"He was trying to protect us," Bones said grimly.

"From _what_?"

"Ourselves? Hell, Jim, I don't know. It had to be done then; it was all we _could_ do. But I thought he'd tell _you_ someday, at least, if you two ever figured it out. Then you did, and he didn't. I don't understand it any more than you do."

"Never got around to it?" Jim suggested weakly. "Wanted to wait until we were old and gray to bring it up, maybe?" He let his head drop onto his arms on the desk. "Well now that's not going to happen, is it?"

He would grow old, but Spock wouldn't be there. He was dead.

There was an unsteady hand on his shoulder. Not that Bones meant for it to be unsteady, probably, but it seemed he wasn't doing any better right now than Jim was. Now, of course, they both knew why.

When Jim pulled his head up again he was already swearing hoarsely. "Damnit! God…! Damnit, Spock!"

Bones took a step back, as if he were afraid Jim were angry with _him_. "Jim, I'm _sorry_…if I'd known I would have said something before now—"

"Damnit, Bones, I'm not angry at _you_. I'm not even angry it _happened_; I don't really have a right to be," he said, gesturing helplessly. "It's more that he thought he had to carry all of that alone all this time more than anything! Why didn't he just _say_ something?"

"That's not his way and you know it. It's—it was always pulling teeth to get him to talk about anything that personal. Even when he wanted to."

Jim shook his head, bewildered. "But it would have been so much easier. That second half of the first five year mission, when we…he was always _fighting _something. God knows I never pushed him, or I tried not to; I thought it was just his Vulcan nature he was trying to overcome enough to—" He scrubbed at his face again and let out a heavy breath. "But he'd already done that, hadn't he? He was fighting something else completely."

McCoy's hand moved back to his arm, and when the doctor spoke it was with intensity. "Jim, he loved you. One thing forgetting gave me was my objectivity, and I've watched you two all these years, and I _know_ how much he loved you. This doesn't change that. You weren't a consolation prize."

Jim swallowed. "No…" he agreed. He knew. With Spock, their minds and hearts and lives had been one for more than a decade now. He _knew_ what Spock felt for him. He knew it was real.

But he remembered how those early years had gone. He remembered everything that had confused him; all of the conversations that had gone in circles and the things about his bondmate that he still hadn't understand.

Now he did.

"But he loved you, too."

* * *

Sixteen-and-a-Half Years Ago

Those first few days after Leonard McCoy was cured of his Xenopolycethemia were the most difficult that Spock had ever endured. There was no longer any contest. It had been difficult before, to know that their closeness must end; to know that the doctor would never again remember any of it was infinitely more painful.

It seemed, too, that the universe did not intend to allow him the time to recover. It seemed it was determined to beat against his emotional shields until there was nothing left of them. Never had it been so hard to keep them up; to act as if nothing were amiss and to play the part of the Vulcan that his friends and colleagues expected him to play.

Yet he had to play it. It was his protection. If he did not play it he would well and truly come apart at the seams.

His only hope was that in time it would be more again than a part. But when he considered that, he realized it might no longer be possible. For McCoy had forgotten him, but Jim Kirk had not. He saw, now, what the doctor had meant. He looked at Jim and now he could see the hopeful light behind his friend's eyes.

_Oh my friend, how I do not wish to hurt you as well._

But he could take no action, would not, and did not want to until he could understand the whirlpool of confusion inside him. He did not know if he ever would. That was what he had tried to make the captain understand those weeks ago when they spoke.

He knew he would always be there, for Jim. Even without the ties between them, he would have known that. Jim and Leonard both were his only anchors in this existence, besides his mother, and Jim had come first. James Kirk would _always_ be a vital piece of his life, and perhaps he had known that for some time now. But Spock didn't know if it would ever be anything more.

And the fates…he did not know if they were attempting to help or if they were cruel, but his shields did not thank them. The weeks following the encounter with Yonada, it was the _Enterprise_'s missions that played havoc with them; that beat at them.

It began with the Tholian encounter. Jim, for several hours believed dead and the doctor all but at his throat. Two great stresses, tugging him violently in more directions than one. Without the memories of their time together McCoy was more vehement than ever. He said things he would otherwise have known not to be true. Spock knew this; he knew he should not allow it to hurt, but it did.

Jim. Dead. It was so supposedly certain that a memorial service was held. It did not seem possible. With the connection between them Spock thought he would feel it if it were true, but all he felt was pain. Disbelief. And if it was true, then what?

But he wouldn't allow himself to think it. The ship was in danger. His personal matters were not important. And then, of course, as he was wont to do Jim was found, pulled back, alive and well. By the proverbial end of the day _all_ was well. He and Doctor McCoy had reconciled even before Jim was found, and now the captain was back.

Yet Spock was restless. He knew that after everything that had happened he would not sleep. In months past it would not have mattered; Leonard would be there, or he in the doctor's quarters. They would keep each other's company comfortably, whether they spoke or not, and sleeplessness was not something to be feared.

Now it was.

"Captain…"

He called to Jim before the human could leave the turbolift and walk away, after they left the bridge at the end of usual duty hours.

"Mr. Spock?" Jim turned, smiling at him easily, and let the Vulcan catch up again. "Is something wrong?"

"No, sir. I merely wished to inquire after your well-being, after the events of the last day or more."

The captain smile softened. "I'm all right, Spock." He shrugged and rubbed at his neck. "Wiped out, that's for sure, but a little too wound up to sleep. I was going to hit the gym; would you care to join me?"

It was strange, how they were often so…in sync. Spock did not understand it, but then again now that he knew what was between them…perhaps it didn't make so little sense, after all.

"That would be agreeable."

"Meet there in half an hour? Mess hall afterward?"

Spock nodded in agreement, and Jim gave him another smile and was gone.

* * *

Sometimes Jim could pinpoint when it might have started, and sometimes he didn't know at all.

He knew how much he cared for his first officer, and there was nothing he could do about it now. It had been that way from the first year of the mission.

He'd long since learned not to hope. He'd accepted it. All of the subtle hints, and yet Spock was oblivious. Even when it seemed as if he might be sending such hints right back; it always became clear it was nothing more than the dry, ironic sense of humor the Vulcan refused to admit he had.

Whatever Jim felt, it wasn't meant to be, he'd thought. And really it made no sense, anyway. He'd always been a fairly shameless ladies' man—dignified about it, but a ladies' man nonetheless. How did it make sense? Either way, he was the captain. He really couldn't afford attachment anyhow. He was married to his ship, he'd always said. There was a lot of truth in that.

And then Spock melded with him, to help bring him back to reality. Their minds became one for the briefest of minutes, and in those minutes Jim felt something. Suddenly he knew that whatever he felt for the Vulcan was not foolish, though he wasn't sure how he knew it. Not until Spock explained what it was he'd felt. Until Spock explained the existence of this strange connection between them.

Not that it was _so_ strange. Jim had felt oddly protective of his Vulcan first officer from day one, really, attached to him, and the fact it had a reason made more sense than anything else.

Jim knew how he felt. He'd known for quite a long time, no matter how often he'd tried to forget it. He knew he was happy to have Spock as the close friend and colleague he was, but he also knew he wanted more.

Whether Spock would ever consider that remained to be seen. Despite this newfound tie between them he was still a Vulcan, after all. Even though this thing that was there was a Vulcan mysticism, a Vulcan tradition…Spock was still more than protective of his feelings. Even of their very existence. He had always been that way. Anyone who knew him well knew they were there—that all Vulcans had them, in fact, and that the idea that they didn't was a myth—but they all respected him enough to act as if his façade was not only that.

Jim had long suspected, too, that Spock had a harder time of it even than a full Vulcan would…overcompensating, his two halves at war. It was something he and Bones were agreed upon, and Spock had admitted as much in the past whenever under the influence of some alien something or other. When his barriers were down.

Jim knew all of this, and it was for that reason he didn't want to push him. He didn't want to hurt Spock. That was the last thing he wanted.

But he wished to god he knew what Spock had been trying to tell him all those weeks ago, after the meld. Jim had tried to tell his friend how he felt, and Spock had deliberately stopped him. Had he really known what Jim was going to say? Was he less oblivious than he seemed?

And the most important question of all, of course, was if Spock, somewhere under all of those layers of protection and stoicism...felt the same.

Jim wondered when his life had turned into a melodrama.

It only got worse, too, of all the universe's cruel tricks. After the Tholian incident came a distress call; a distress call that brought them to a world an ageless and powerful small group of humanoids called home. Platonians, they called themselves. They had no doctor. They had long had no need of one but now they attempted to hold Doctor McCoy with them against his will.

They could control people. Things. Telekinesis and mind control, all rolled into one. It was a strange sort of torture they used, to try to force Bones to stay with them. They controlled his friends, Spock and Jim himself…a macabre show that later included Lieutenant Uhura and Nurse Chapel, stolen from the Enterprise.

But the worst thing they did, the worst thing they could have done; forcing emotions like laughter and tears from Spock, from a Vulcan. It was that that nearly broke McCoy, and Jim didn't blame him. Trapped on the floor at the time, unable to move, everything hurt to watch it happen. It hurt later, watching Spock, deep in meditation and trembling, trying to bring himself under control. It hurt to be helpless to do anything for him.

But they made it out of that, too. They got through it. They always did, but this time he wondered whether Spock was really as all right as he insisted he was.

And then there were the Vians.

* * *

Spock's defenses were weak enough after the encounters with the Tholians and Platonians. It really did seem as if whatever powers there were were trying him, for after that the ship's mission to a research outpost in the Minarian star system led to the capture of himself, the captain, and Doctor McCoy by a race that called themselves the Vians.

They hurt Jim. They hurt him, and Spock was so ill-equipped to bury his emotions by that point that the empathic woman trapped with them noticed immediately. Oh, outwardly Spock knew he was doing well in acting himself—the doctor's lack of comment was proof—but within he was not nearly so calm.

His panic surprised him, when McCoy announced that whatever the Vians had done to the captain had left him with a severe case of the condition known to humans as 'the Bends'…when he realized that Jim's life was in danger. Or could have been if the empathic woman had not taken away the worst of the damage. But perhaps it should not have surprised him.

_I think at least on some level you're realizing you care about him that way, too._

_ You told me once that feelings were like energy…never created or destroyed. Only discovered or forgotten, accepted or pushed away. Maybe you should listen to yourself. _

Leonard's words echoed in his memory…and all of the times when the captain's life had been in danger, and Spock himself had done things to preserve it that otherwise would never have been logical. In truth, they had not been logical even then but he had done them anyway.

He realized that his logic seemed often faulty, where Jim Kirk was concerned. If ever logic would not keep Jim alive, he left it aside. When had that begun? Had it always been so?

"When we resume our interrogations, you will decide which of your men we shall use," The Vians told Jim. "There is an 87% chance that the doctor will die, and while Commander Spock's life is not in danger the possibility is 93% that he will suffer brain damage, resulting in permanent insanity."

He was doing it now. He planned to be certain that the Vians took him, and not Jim. Not Leonard. He could not allow any more harm to come to either of them, even though it would be much more logical for him to be the one to remain with the captain. He was much more capable, thanks to his expertise, of finding a way out of this place for whoever remained. They had acquired a small Vian device, and it might be possible to learn how to use it.

But he cared too much for both of them to let them be hurt or, fates forbid, killed. If one of them was to die anyhow, logic no longer mattered. He could not bear the possibility that it might be Jim _or _McCoy, so he would not allow it to be.

"I have recorded my principles and theories on the tricorder, Doctor," he told McCoy. "Should the Vians return there is sufficient data for you and the captain to complete the adjustments."

"I'm not a mechanic!" McCoy said, moving in closer to argue more quietly. "I couldn't get that thing to work no matter how many notes you left."

Spock looked at him, and it was not an easy thing that the doctor was so close. "Possibly not, but you and the captain together will be able to do so." Perhaps Leonard was no mechanic, but James Kirk had far more intelligence for technology than he tended to let on to most.

"In any case, Spock, _you_ are the logical one to leave with the captain," McCoy said intensely. He seemed determined to be right, and he was really—about the logic, anyhow, and the irony of the _doctor _calling the Vulcan on such a flaw in logic was not lost on Spock. Part of him wanted to smile, but that was when Jim caught them in their conspiracy and cut in.

"The decision is mine," he said, tired but firm. "If there are any decisions to be made, I'll make them. If and when it becomes necessary." Which could only mean, of course, that he would insist the Vians take _him_ again. He was the captain. He would sacrifice himself for them, and Spock could not allow that to happen. But what could he do?

Jim retreated to the padded bench-like structure in the center of their prison. He moved slowly, still weak and in pain, and Spock felt it in his chest to see Jim suffering.

_I care for you. I do, and I cannot deny that, but how much? And what does it mean? How can I reconcile it? _He swallowed. _And what can I do for you now?_

Then McCoy fixed the problem for them. He took a hypospray from his kit and injected the captain before Jim knew anything had happened. Spock did not stop him. In seconds Jim was asleep, and a tenuous peace settled over Spock as he realized he was now in command. All would go as he had planned.

"How long will he be asleep, Doctor?"

McCoy shrugged helplessly. "Between the emotional strain and the attack of Bends, he's in pretty bad shape."

"I'm not criticizing your action, Doctor. On the contrary, I am quite grateful for it. The captain will be spared the strain of making so difficult a decision. You've simplified the situation considerably."

"How?"

He was in command. The decision was now his. He would go with the Vians when they returned, and he explained as much.

"You mean if I hadn't given him that shot—!"

"Precisely. The choice would have been the captain's. Now, it is mine."

Sometimes Leonard McCoy impressed Spock with his own emotional control. Perhaps it was his painful past, or his medical training, or all of it, but there were times the doctor could shutter himself off almost as efficiently as any Vulcan. He did so now, but as well as Spock knew him he saw the flash of guilt and grief. He saw it, and he felt remorse of his own for it, but then McCoy's expression was carefully neutral. The doctor walked away stiffly.

_I am sorry, Doctor. If the Vians speak the truth my mind will be destroyed. I will be gone as surely as if I had died. But at least, you will never again have to know what we both have lost. _

Spock let out a small breath and sat beside his captain. He studied Jim's troubled face. _This is what I can do. I can give myself. I may never have the chance now to understand what there is between us, but I will know I have saved you._

That was when the empathic woman touched his shoulder. That was when he felt, through her touch, that she sensed it all. His pain and confusion and love were all but an unavoidable broadcast to her. She smiled softly at him. It was between them alone.

What had he become? Spock wondered, not for the first time.

Through the woman's touch, nothing was quite in words, but there seemed to be a response: Whatever he was—and she knew nothing of Vulcans, of course—she approved of him. She thought his feelings beautiful, even though hidden.

_How can they be so, when in the end they cause myself and others pain?_

They were not hurting anyone now, came the answer. He would save the captain and doctor. He might not have done exactly that without the emotions he harbored for them both. Nothing in this mortal life was perfect, but what he felt was true; was good, the woman was trying to tell him. Do not push it all away.

The sting of a hypospray in his back. McCoy. McCoy had taken matters into his own hands. Spock protested. He tried to, but the darkness pulled at him. He couldn't let it. The doctor would die if he went with the Vians.

_Leonard! No!_

He collapsed at Jim's side, and consciousness was no more.

* * *

When Spock awoke, he adjusted the Vian device as quickly as he could. They had to find the doctor, and they had to get back to Enterprise. They didn't speak of it, but Spock knew Jim was just as concerned for McCoy as he was.

They were afraid of what they would find when they looked for him.

The device could be used as a version of a teleporter. They brought themselves to the labs they had seen before, and McCoy was there.

He was hanging from chains from the ceiling, and he was barely alive.

It should not have surprised them. The Vians had told them what would happen, but for an agonizing moment Spock could not breathe just the same. The both he and Jim had jumped into action, getting him down and finding a bench to lay him down on. Spock was glad for their tricorder then, but he also was not. When he scanned the doctor, it was clear that he wouldn't survive. Whatever they had done to him, there was simply too much damage.

Pain. Guilt. Resignation. He felt them all.

"He's dying, Jim," Spock tried to explain—gently, more straightforward, when the captain asked point blank. He said it after an unsteady breath. "We can make him comfortable, but that is all."

"You don't know! You're not a doctor."

"I am…" The voice was weak, below them on the bench, but McCoy was agreeing with the Vulcan's assessment. "He's right, Jim. Being a doctor has its drawbacks. I…always wondered why I—" He cut off. Deep, painful coughs wracked his body and all Jim and Spock could do was hold onto him.

"How long?" Jim asked helplessly.

"It could happen any time." To keep it from sounding pained his voice sounded hollow, Spock knew. Too matter-of-fact.

"The correct medical phrase, eh Spock?" McCoy teased weakly. The Vulcan still had a hand on his arm, and he squeezed. That was when the doctor curled again in pain, coughing violently. Without thinking Spock reach out for him again. He held Leonard's arm, and his other hand went to the doctor's hair. Spock held his head, and he would have reached for the other man's face, but it was too bruised. He didn't wish to hurt him.

By now Jim was almost still, too stunned and hurting to really know what to do with himself.

Spock held on. When Leonard settled on his back again, exhausted, he seemed confused but not ungrateful for the comfort. "You've got a…good beside manner, Spock," he managed through labored breaths.

What Spock truly wished to do but could not do was take the doctor in his arms, and promise him that he would not die. He would be healed and all would be as it was. At least…as it had been before. The three of them, on the _Enterprise_. Friends. If McCoy were to die they would not have even that. It would be himself and Jim, alone, and what would happen to them without Leonard McCoy as the third of their trio? Would the bond between himself and Jim be enough to see them through? He'd been doubtful of it before, too, when the doctor had been ill.

_Do not die. You must not die. _

It was illogical, of course. Even if the doctor could hear him through the small amount of physical contact that _was_ there, there was nothing McCoy could do anymore than there was anything Spock or Jim could do, to keep him alive.

McCoy was unconscious now anyway. It didn't matter.

But something within him was slowly and surely cracking.

* * *

Bones was saved, in the end. It was a tricky business, convincing the Vians that was they were doing was wrong. They were using their Starfleet captives to test to instincts of self-sacrifice in the empathic woman, to discover if she would risk her life to use her abilities to save one of them. McCoy.

She offered, but Bones gained just enough consciousness to refuse to allow her to risk herself.

They had to convince the Vians of their hypocrisy; of the fact that in their long live and in their testing they had lost the ability to feel the benevolent emotions they searched for in their subjects. It wasn't easy, but finally they listened. They healed McCoy, and released their prisoners.

Jim, though, still puzzled over one thing in particular. While the Vians waited to see if the empath would help Bones, they held the captain and first officer in an energy field. The thing rendered them immobile…used their own energy against them. The more they struggled, the tighter it held them.

Then Spock was the one to realize that it wasn't only their physical energy from which the field drew its strength.

"Captain…the intensity of emotion…is draining us, and building up the force field," he'd said. "It's draws it's energy from us." Us. Not 'you.' He'd admitted to his own emotion. "In spite of what we see, all emotion must be suppressed. It might weaken the field."

And Spock had been the one to free himself, and then to free Jim. He had done it, but it had taken time…and more time than Jim would have thought, even though he knew Spock did feel. And of course, the Vulcan admitting to the emotion was surprising enough in itself.

_Spock, my friend, sometimes I underestimate your humanity, don't I?_

Was that part of their problem too?

He didn't know. He did know that after the ordeal Spock acted as he always did—as if nothing had happened. At least his attitude was as such, but for weeks after that he also spent much more of his off-duty hours than usual hovering anywhere that the doctor or the captain happened to be.

"What do you think, Bones?" Jim asked his friend one evening, over drinks. It was one of the few times since the incident with the Vians that they'd been able to speak without Spock nearby.

"I think he needs to talk to somebody before he has some kind of Vulcan breakdown," McCoy grumbled. "And god knows he'll never talk to me, so I mean you. Hell, _I'm _still having nightmares; there shouldn't be anything shameful in admitting the whole thing shook him up a little, even if he_ is_ a Vulcan."

Jim made a face. "And it isn't just that. The Platonians, too…and him being left in command when I disappeared during that Tholian mess. I've been worried about him for a while."

Bones sighed. "Me too," he admitted quietly. Then the doctor smiled a little. "You know, he'll never know if you never say anything. He's a Vulcan; he's too thick-headed to figure that out on his own."

The captain blinked at his friend. "Bones…?"

"Come on, Jim; I'm not an idiot."

Jim fought the urge to raise an eyebrow a la his first officer. "And how long have you not been an idiot?" he asked dryly.

McCoy smirked and took a swig from his glass. "Too long."

"You might have said something before now." The doctor tried to offer some retort to that, but then frowned as if confused. "Bones?"

"Nothing…anyway, stop being an idiot yourself, Jim. You never know. You're not some infatuated girl;you're his friend. _You_ saying something might actually dent that Vulcan hide of his."

Jim winced and held up a hand. "Bones, you're my friend, and thank you, but I don't think I'm ready to take that category of advice from you just yet."

McCoy's smile faded into something gentler. "Sorry. I wasn't trying to make it sound less serious than it is."

So he really did understand, then. "Thanks, Bones," he said sincerely.

* * *

"Mr. Spock, you'll have to forgive my frankness but quite frankly, Commander, I'm kicking your ass."

Spock felt his eyebrows rise, and he didn't have to study the 3D chessboard to know it was true. "So it would seem," he admitted.

He was still distracted. He knew that he was. He had more than enough control to keep him focused on duty, of course; he made certain of that. But beyond his duties it was becoming increasingly difficult to keep his mind clear. More and more he thought of what the empathic woman had tried to tell him without words. More and more he wondered if, maybe, Leonard had been correct as well.

—_if there's supposed to be something more between you and Jim, it's there. You just have to find it…or let it find you. You're not doing that. I think you're fighting it. I think you're making it all a lot harder than it has to be._

"That's not like you, Spock; you're usually much more on top of this. Is something on our mind?"

If Jim had been in his mind at that moment, the question would likely be considered comical.

He took long enough in answering that the captain continued. "Is what happened with the Vians still bothering you? It's all right; it's still bothering _me_, that's for sure."

"I am all right, Captain. I am grateful that neither you nor the doctor was killed; that is all."

"You're sure you're all right?"

"I was not tortured as were the two of you." He did not mean for it to come out tight like that, but it did, and now Jim was frowning at him in concern. He focused on the chess set. After a moment he moved a piece, but he realized immediately that while it was not a bad move there was one that would have been much better.

At first it seemed as if Jim had let the subject go. Indeed he did not precisely open _that_ subject again, but the one he broached next was equally as uncomfortable.

"We haven't talked again about what happened during that first meld, you know," Jim said next, gently. It was an unrelated topic, but then again it really wasn't. And it was what they were both truly thinking about anyhow.

"Jim…"

"I'm sorry, Spock, I just…at the very least I need to know if you really understood what I was trying to tell you that day. Did you? Do you really know what I meant? You wouldn't let me get a word out."

Spock looked at him for a long time, and knew that he could not lie. "For my cowardice I must apologize; I know what you attempted to say, Jim. I am sorry that I did not listen. I owed you that, at least."

"Spock, we've saved each other's lives so many times…you don't owe me anything. I just wanted you to know. Even if…I don't know. But this connection between us has to mean something, doesn't it?"

"It does. It always _will _mean something—a great deal, to me, in fact. Do not doubt that."

Jim sighed. "But you still can't tell me if there's anything more there than we've known already."

If he were not Vulcan he would have shifted uncomfortably in his seat, but he resisted the urge. He frowned, trying to determine how much he should say.

He knew now, that even if his feelings for and reactions to his captain and the doctor had begun quite differently…the feelings seemed very much the same now. He would do anything, he knew, for either of them. He could not bear the thought of anything harming either of them. That had been proven _more_ than efficiently when they were captured by the Vians.

What he did not know was if that meant what the doctor seemed to have believed it did.

Spock let out a small breath, and spoke carefully. "Jim…you are my friend, and I will always care for you. I…freely admit that the thought of anything happening to you is painful to me…"

But he knew he loved Leonard McCoy. Was it truly possible, then, to love two people just as strongly? It wasn't logical.

Jim's hand touched his arm at his last comment. The captain reached across the corner of the small desk that was between them. "Spock…it's all right. Don't…push yourself. That's not what I'm asking of you."

The Vulcan nodded slowly in thanks.

It was more than he'd been able to say to Jim in the past. It was progress. That much was certain. Granted, it was not as much as he had said to McCoy the first time he had confessed himself, but as difficult as that had been it had been easier than this.

Why did it seem so much harder now? Was he afraid? Had the pain of being forced away from Leonard been so great he was frightened, now, of anything that might result in such pain again?

Spock was aware that such responses were possible in humans. He understood that much. It was why he had only asked of the doctor to bond with him, and not precisely for marriage. He knew that Leonard had been hurt by his divorce from his first wife, the mother of his daughter. But was he capable of the same reaction?

Simply because he did not keep as tight a lock on his emotions as he had as a younger man did not mean that he understood all of them. He was far, far from that, in fact.

But perhaps Jim understood that. The way the captain smiled at him now, the unobtrusive hand on his forearm that withdrew after not too much time, and it all seemed to say that he did. He couldn't know all of it, of course, but he understood enough.

There was nothing to fear here. Not from Jim. At the very least, Spock could know that. He did know it now, in that moment.

And after everything that life had handed him, that was what he needed now.


	7. Chapter 7

Sorry this took a little while, but I wanted to work on it really hard and do the K/S justice too. So it's also the longest chapter so far, I think.

Anyway, I hope ya'll like. :) Please do let me know! Gotta know if I'm doing ok with the shifting pairings now, after all. ;) Thanks so much for everything ya'll!

Episode heavily referenced in this chapter is _Elaan of Troyius_.

NOTE: I also thought I'd let ya'll know that if this story had a theme song, it would be _Pieces_ by Red. I saw an amazing Nu!Kirk/Spock vid with it once, it got stuck in my head, and now I listen to it all the time when writing this fic, for both the S/MC and K/S stuff. Either one. it works both ways and it's an amazing song; check it out if you don't know it.

Chapter 7

"Captain."

There was no answer from the other side of the door; Lieutenant Uhura's quarters, occupied at the moment by the _Enterprise_'s political passenger, the Dohlman of Elas. They were ferrying her and her aides to Troyius for her to be married in a political union.

The captain, too, was in there. That much Spock knew. McCoy stood beside him, anxious. The doctor had come to him in alarm only moments ago, worried over something he had learned from the Troyian ambassador, Petri, about Elasian women. He thought Jim might be in danger. Indeed, there had already been trouble as it was. One of the Dohlman's aides had attempted to sabotage the Enterprise, apparently having sold out to the Klingons. It was a Klingon ship that followed them.

Spock tried the buzzer again. "Captain," he called with more urgency.

When there was no answer McCoy rolled his eyes at the Vulcan's passive tactics and punched the override on the door to open it.

When it opened it seemed that Jim was not in danger, but in something else entirely—the Dohlman's arms, kissing passionately.

Something in Spock's mind reacted with almost physical violence to the sight, and it took a great deal of concentration not to betray anything outwardly. It took him a moment of aching confusion to realize it was his connection to Jim crying out in pain, as if it had a mind of its own. His stomach was turning.

He realized, too, that it wasn't only the connection. It wasn't all involuntary.

The wrenching in his chest was his own emotion, whether or not he understood it.

"May we see you a moment?" Spock said impassively.

Beside him Leonard did not seem at all happy either, and inside the room they looked into Jim was pulling himself slowly away from the Dohlman. The captain seemed confused and disoriented.

"Jim," McCoy said urgently. "Jim!" The captain finally looked their way. "May we _please_ have a word with you?"

Jim gave a weak half of a nod, and all but stumbled out into the corridor with them. As the door closed behind him he leaned into the corridor wall.

Whatever else Spock had felt, revulsion or anger or even jealousy, if that was what it was, became worry. "Captain? Are you all right?"

"Did she cry, Jim?" McCoy asked.

"What?"

"Did she cry? Did her tears touch you at any time?"

Jim blinked, and looked quickly down at the back of his hand in alarm.

So they had their answer, then. That was what Leonard had come to Spock concerned about. But they were too late. Spock exchanged a quick glance with the doctor.

"Well, we're in trouble," McCoy grumbled. He swallowed and focused on the captain. "Now, listen, Jim. Petri told Christine that the Elasian women have a sort of biochemical substance in their tears that acts like a super love potion. And according to him it _doesn't wear off_."

Jim looked at them, mouth open, and Spock felt that something in him rebel again. "It _is_ true then, Captain?" he asked quietly. It was only quiet because his voice refused to come out any louder.

Jim nodded, stricken. "It's true…Bones, you've _got_ to find me an antidote."

"I'll try, but I—"

But they were interrupted. The Klingon ship was behaving threateningly now. The captain and first officer were needed on the bridge.

* * *

After that, it was clear to Spock and McCoy even when it wasn't clear to everyone else that there was something wrong with Jim. The captain was dealing with Klingons and the danger to the _Enterprise_ atop trying to push away unwanted emotions forced on him by the strange potion in the tears of the Elasian princess.

He was fighting, and more often than not it was visible. Spock realized that he wanted nothing more than to help Jim. He wanted nothing more than to take away the confusion and pain Jim was feeling.

But this was a crisis. The ship was not safe, and the crew did not need to know that their captain might be compromised. Spock did help in that way, making suggestions and reminders where he could to keep the captain thinking clearly. It was all he could do just now, but it seemed to be enough. Jim pulled himself together. Once or twice Spock found himself nearly shouted at, but then Jim would reign himself in. He would blink guiltily and realize that his first officer was right.

Spock pushed the pain away, because it wasn't important. It wasn't productive. It didn't matter; it was not Jim's fault that he was acting the way he was, and he was fighting it well in any case.

What would happen when this was over did not matter now, either. Only the safety of the _Enterprise_ and her passengers and crew mattered. Duty.

The strange thing was that Elaan, the selfish young Dohlman, seemed to truly care for the captain even though she had trapped him to her by force. It seemed much more difficult for Jim to focus when she was near, yet she stayed near when she could manage it. She ignored instructions to stay safe elsewhere on the ship to do so.

And was this really jealousy? The most illogical of emotions.

And yet, no matter whether the Dohlman cared for Jim or not, and whether he cared for her or not, if the affliction of the potion could not be cured what would happen?

There was no time to think of it. In truth, Spock did not want to. There was more than enough to be concerned with, and his mind was occupied with the situation at hand. In the end Jim maneuvered them through it as the captain he had always been. The Klingon ship was damaged and retreated and the _Enterprise_ was able to continue to Troyius.

The Dohlman, her aides, and the ambassador were beamed down. Spock did not know what happened at that parting, for the captain was the only one in the transporter room with them when they departed. Spock did not see Jim until hours later, when in his quarters the doctor called him to say that the captain had not emerged from his quarters since the party left. McCoy asked him to check on him. The doctor was busy in his lab still searching for an antidote, though he admitted that his endeavors were not yet going well.

"Captain?"

This time it was Jim's quarters, but there was no answer now either.

"Captain?" he tried again. "Jim…"

A voice just loud enough to be heard called for him to come in. When Spock did he didn't immediately see the captain.

"In here, Spock."

Jim was still in uniform, but his boots were off, and he sat on his otherwise perfectly made bed propped against pillows at the head of it. The way he was half curled seemed to suggest that he couldn't quite decide whether to try to relax or to hug his knees to his chest. His head rested back on the ledge behind him, the shelf behind and above the bed, but he lifted it when his first officer tentatively entered the room.

"Jim?" the Vulcan asked. "Are you all right?"

The captain sighed. He pushed his legs out straight and crossed his ankles, hugging his arms to his chest. "Not really. I'm…I'm going to need you to take command for now, Spock. We don't know how this…whatever it is is going to affect me in the long run, until Bones can find a way to cure it. I won't put the ship in danger."

Spock frowned, not understanding. "I do not understand. You conducted yourself extremely well during the crisis, Captain, even under the stress of the—"

"Yes I did, and it took a lot out of me. I don't know how long I could keep that up," Jim admitted.

"But the Dohlman is gone now. Surely the effects have lessened."

"Tell whatever the hell is wrong with me that," the captain growled in frustration. "When she was here is was worse when she was nearby, but now that she's gone entirely I…I'm…it's worse than it was before. It doesn't make any sense. It's unpredictable. That's why you need to take command. I'm not fit for duty until we can find out what exactly is causing these effects and what to do about it."

Spock nodded slowly, watching his captain and friend carefully as he did so. He saw now that Jim was shivering; his arms crossed tightly in front of him were an attempt to still the shaking.

"Good," Jim said in response to his nod. "You should get the bridge…patch my comms in here through to shipwide and I'll let the crew know you might be in charge for a while."

"Of course." He paused. "Are you chilled?"

Jim let out an uneven laugh. "No, Spock…I just can't stop this shivering. I'm not really sure what else to do about it."

"It is still possible that warmth would be helpful in that matter, and there _are_ blankets on the bed in which you're sitting."

The captain smiled sheepishly. "I know. I guess I felt like if I didn't get under the covers it wasn't retreating to bed."

"Illogical. You are in bed whether or not you are covered, and there is nothing shameful in it if you are in need of the rest. I would say that you are, and in a way you are also ill. Bed is generally the place for someone ill."

"I'm all right, Spock."

"You have said yourself that you are not."

Jim half glared at him. "Fine. What do you plan to do about it?"

In answer Spock came to the bedside and calmly yanked the bedcovers out from under his captain. With his Vulcan strength it was no difficult matter to free them without needing to move the human at all.

"Spock, really, I'm fine without them—"

"Jim."

As it had any other time in the last day or so, the firm response made the captain pause, and think, and realize that Spock was right. "Right…sorry…" He slid under the covers held up for him, and Spock released them to let him pull them close. "Maybe that is better," Jim agreed finally. He was still shivering, but he seemed more comfortable.

Spock straightened, his hands going behind his back to clasp there. "I will report to the bridge; I will contact you when I arrive there for you to make whatever announcement you see fit from here. I will also inform the doctor that he should examine you again; these continuing severe symptoms are troubling."

"Troubling, Spock? That sounds like an emotion," Jim teased quietly. The Vulcan arched an eyebrow at him, and he sighed. "Sorry. Thank you, Spock."

It was difficult to leave, but he had done all that he could do.

* * *

Jim was beginning to think that maybe, just now, he could understand a little of what it was like to be his first officer. His mind had been affected by various things before, being out here—he'd been driven mad, forced into being overly aggressive, had his mind affected by sudden aging, and other things—but it had never been quite like this.

He wasn't crazy at all. He simply had feelings that he did not want. He had a need that he did not want. None of it was dangerous, really. None of the impulses were violent. He simply wanted Elaan, was in love with her, ached to have her return to him…but he didn't want any of it. They were simple human feelings. Love. Lust. Sorrow. Nothing out of the ordinary, but he didn't want them.

Sometimes he imagined that maybe it was something like this for Spock. Human emotions, unwanted, ignored and locked away as if they were alien intruders forced upon him.

A fight with himself; feelings that existed that he knew he shouldn't have. That was what Jim felt now, and if Spock's life, day-to-day, was anything at all like this he didn't know how the Vulcan did it.

_If this is anything of what it's like, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I tease you. I'm sorry about…so much. _

He loved Elaan. He knew he shouldn't. Jim wanted Spock with him. He wanted to be able to think of anything other than the Dohlman of Elaas. But Spock was in command now. He couldn't just be here; he had to take care of the ship while Jim was unable, and Bones had to be in his labs.

Jim was alone. The very thing that made him wish his friends could be with him, just to help him through this, was the thing that kept them away from him.

They checked on him as often as they could. He wouldn't leave his quarters; he couldn't be seen by anyone else like this. He spent much of his time in bed, trying not to shake too terribly hard. When he was too restless he was up, moving anxiously, not really seeing anything. He couldn't focus. The more he tried to concentrate on anything other than Elaan the more he could think only of her. Technically he was not physically ill, but he might as well have been. He felt tired and nauseous and everything in between anyhow.

And it all seemed to be getting worse rather than better.

* * *

"There is no progress, Doctor?"

It had been nearly a week, and McCoy shook his head angrily. "None. There are still avenues to explore, but none of it's looked very good so far. I'm beginning to worry it really can't be done. That's what they told us, after all."

"I am confident that you will find a way to reverse the effects."

The doctor snorted. "Thanks for the rare vote of confidence, Spock, but it doesn't change anything."

Spock frowned. "What will happen if you cannot devise a cure?"

"I don't know. Either he'll have to man up and figure out how to live with it, or his career's over," Leonard scowled. "And maybe he could do it; maybe he'd sort it out eventually, but…god, I hate to think…"

Spock did not care to think of it either. When he thought of it; of the possibly that there may be no cure for Elasian tears…

When he thought of the possibility that Jim might be forced to love this woman, now and forever, Spock felt the terrible emptiness of a future slipping away that he hadn't even known any part of him truly believed in.

When he thought of it he wanted to rebel against a universe that seemed to think it could tell its inhabitants whom they should love, and use whatever means it chose to do so. In this instance, for Jim, it was becoming a disaster. It was infinitely worse than what had been done to himself and to Leonard, for Jim would never see this woman again. She was wed to another man by now.

Then, when he thought of it, he felt sympathy. He knew he understood much of what Jim was experiencing now. The urge, the wish that he could take away Jim's pain, returned. Really it had never been gone.

But what could he do?

This evening he found Jim pacing in the main room of his quarters, slow but agitated. When he saw his first officer he all but leapt toward the door.

"Spock! Thank god! Has Bones…?" Spock shook his head, and Jim's shoulders slumped. "No…I didn't think so." He did not look well at all today. His face showed a sheen of sweat and he seemed more exhausted and anxious even than he had been. He released a shaking breath.

"Jim…"

He did not know what to say. What could they say? If this was not fixed; if Jim was not cured…they would never know what could have been.

And it was only now that Spock finally believed he might _want_ to know.

Jim was only half listening. He began to complain loudly as he paced. "Damnit, why can't I get past this! I know it's not just—it's some kind of chemical, or infection, or…I know it's not my fault, but I still feel like I should be able to—" He cut off. "What if Bones never finds anything? What happens to me then?"

"I am certain that the doctor will—"

"You can't know that."

"You yourself have extolled the advantages of remaining positive."

Jim swallowed. "I know that. I know…but I'm…" He rubbed anxiously at a temple. "I'm afraid, Spock," he all but whispered. "I don't want to be stuck like this. It's like an illness I'll never get over…disabling…not only physically. If I can't get rid of this I can never…My life as I know it is over."

He dragged in a breath and continued, and as he did his voice rose. "I don't want to be like this," he repeated. "I'm going to lose my mind. I _don't want to want her_. I don't want to _love_ her, I l—" He stopped only briefly this time. "I love _you_."

Spock's breath caught, but he remained silent, and Jim slowed in his pacing enough to glance at the Vulcan apologetically.

"There. I said it. I'm sorry if you're not ready to hear it. You can ignore me if you want, but I have to say it or I'll go crazy. It's the only thing keeping me together right now." He stopped then and leaned against the desk, and made a sound like he was in pain.

"Jim?" Spock moved closer, a hand outstretched, but he wasn't certain what to do with it.

The captain's breathing seemed labored now. He shivered. "Spock…help me."

How? There was nothing he knew that he could do. He could be here. Perhaps he could provide some comfort, but he could not take away the pain, or the confusion, or any of it. There was a sharp ache in his own chest at that.

He touched Jim's arm, and Spock didn't realize he was so close until the human turned only slightly to lean into his shoulder.

"I really screwed up this time, didn't I?" Jim said at length, mumbled into the Vulcan's shirt. "I should have just stayed away from her. She never would have had the chance to—"

"You were attempting to help her. She needed to be taught how to act in a civilized manner; to learn to do so would be better for her later, make her transition easier to bear, and you knew this. You only wished to help. You were doing the right thing."

"No good deed…goes unpunished then, hmm?"

Jim was still having difficulty breathing. He was slumping, and a hand came up to Spock's other shoulder to hold on, to support himself. When he felt the slip Spock brought his own free hand up to the captain's crooked elbow to help in holding him up.

He realized they were now effectively in an embrace, but it did not make him as uncomfortable as he had thought such a thing might. It was still so soon, or so it seemed, since he had been with the doctor. Yet Jim Kirk had been a valued friend from the beginning. As strange as this might have seemed in the past, it did not seem out of place now. Just this, at least, did not feel like any betrayal.

Relief. It was relief that he was feeling. He could do this much for now, and perhaps it would help.

They stood that way for a long time. At first Jim seemed to calm but then it grew worse again. He made a garbled sound and leaned further into his first officer.

"Are you in pain? Jim?" Spock asked urgently. He had to shift an arm across the captain's back to keep him standing. Jim's fingers dug into his shoulders from behind where his arms had wrapped.

"Something like that," Jim gasped. He moaned more than once, and it certainly sounded like pain. "Spock…Spock, I don't want to lose you. If we can't fix this I'll lose you even if neither of us leaves. I…god…"

The captain pulled himself up then, quickly, one hand shifted from Spock's shoulder to his face, and Jim kissed him, as if his life depended on it.

Perhaps it did, was Spock's first thought, but then the rest of his mind kicked in and it was a cacophony of alarms. _Too soon! _This much _was_ too soon. And it was real touch, skin to skin, and his telepathy bombarded him. It was Jim's induced confusion meeting his own, Jim's pain meeting his own, and it was too much.

The unconscious part of him that wanted this was only in control for the first few seconds. Then Spock was reacting, shoving Jim away before remembering he should be careful with his friend in his weakened condition. Jim fell back against the edge of the desk and Spock was stumbling back with a pained gasp on his lips.

Contact was lost but the pain and confusion remained, fighting with his own. Leonard McCoy's face filled his mind and he remembered _why_ there was pain. There was too much of it. His own, pulled to the forefront through contact with Jim and his affliction, and Jim's that he could still feel the echoes of.

It took Spock a moment to realize he was staring blankly at the floor, and from an odd angle. He was bent over, awkwardly, trying to catch his breath. The breaths he could pull in were harsh, and when had breathing become difficult at all? When he broke away? He couldn't remember.

"Spock? Spock…? Oh god…god, Spock, I'm sorry, I…"

The Vulcan reached out blindly, came in contact with the coolness of a bulkhead, and drew himself against it. He leaned into it, trying to compose himself because…

Why, again?

His face. One side of it was damp. He could feel the thin trail where there had been a tear. Maybe more than one. For a Vulcan it was almost the equivalent of a complete breakdown, but the overload of emotion from Jim had left him too exhausted to feel any shame. At least it was the side nearest the wall. Perhaps Jim had not seen.

It wasn't only the negative emotions he'd felt, from Jim, when their lips met. He'd felt everything the captain had been hiding. Feelings for _him_. Beneath the emotions forced on Jim by the tears of the Dohlman, it was all there. The connection between them had sparked to come in contact with them.

"Spock? Are you all right? I'm _sorry_…god, that was probably the _worst_ thing I could have done. I don't know why I—" A cutoff. A pause. "Damnit, your telepathy. You felt all of it, didn't you? God. Spock…"

Spock noticed the marked improvement in Jim's speech patterns before he finally looked up. When he did he saw the captain standing straighter, his eyes less wild, breathing more easily…

"Captain?" His voice came out hoarsely. He frowned. "You seem…?"

"Better?" Jim swallowed anxiously. "I don't know. Maybe _you _were what the doctor ordered. That doesn't mean I should have done it. I'm so sorry—"

Spock held up a hand, quieting Jim and giving himself another moment to collect his faculties. He realized he had not seen to the matter of the single trail on his cheek, but by now the captain had seen it. There was no purpose in attempting to be discrete as he quickly wiped it away. He let out a heavy breath, and straightened his back and his uniform tunic.

He looked at Jim again, and human's mouth opened but closed once more. He was left with only the silence of a man who knows he has done something unspeakable.

Still, he _did_ look much better now. Had their connection healed him?

Jim looked stricken, and Spock knew he needed to say _something_. He could not leave his captain and friend that way. In truth, there was one thing that he _should_ say, if he could. For though the contact had brought back his pain it had also forced him to realize something else.

Then Jim was speaking again, likely for lack of knowing what else to do. His expression was still pained. "I wasn't thinking. I shouldn't have done that. God, for you it's probably not even—"

"I _do_ love you."

It was out before Spock quite realized it, and it was quiet but Jim heard it anyway. Jim stopped short and stared.

The Vulcan came very close to wincing apologetically before he continued. "It…is something I have hidden, even from myself. There are many reasons…but none of them are any fault of yours." He knew both of his eyebrows were up, probably threatening to disappear into his hairline, but it was something he couldn't remedy just now.

Jim still did not speak, apparently still too shocked at the actual admission. They were both silent until he did say something, but it was only the Vulcan's name.

"Spock…"

Spock straightened again at the trailing plea, because he could not do this now. He knew what would happen now, but had gone as far as he could go at this moment. The effects of brushing with Jim's confused mind as it had been minutes ago were still unsettling him far more than he cared to admit.

"I must…fetch Doctor McCoy," he said, taking care not to say it too quickly. He was running away for now, yes, and they both would know it, but the least he could do for Jim was to keep it from sounding too much like what it was. "He will want to validate that you are, in fact, improved."

The captain swallowed visibly. "Right. He uhm…Bones will probably be glad to hear I'm…better. He was getting worried he'd never find anything." He looked away. "I assume you'd prefer it if neither of us said anything to him about what really happened?"

Spock didn't say anything, but Jim seemed to understand his answer anyhow.

"Right…I won't. I promise you that."

The Vulcan nodded in thanks, and turned to go.

"Will you come back with him?" Jim asked suddenly.

Spock glanced back and shook his head, and the captain seemed more than a little bit disappointed. "I will return at another time," the Vulcan amended quietly.

Jim nodded weakly, and Spock left before he could make anything else any worse.

* * *

Never in his life had Jim been so acutely aware that he'd utterly screwed up. How could he have done that? Had he really been that far out of his mind?

His mind was clear now. He had no desire to even think of Elaan. Somehow, the contact with Spock…it had fixed whatever was wrong with him. He was fine now. When they touched, when their lips met, Jim had felt something. Maybe it was the invisible thread between them that he knew was there. Maybe that had been what healed him.

But what now? Spock had admitted to having his own feelings, but then he'd left. Was that it? Would the Vulcan never speak him again now, outside of duty? Had he ruined any chance they had?

Jim told himself that couldn't be it. Spock had said he would come back, after all. But still he worried.

Because while his overwhelming love for Elaan was something that had been forced on him—and was gone now—what he felt for his first officer was not something that would be so easily forgotten.

He was slumped over his desk when the door opened. It was Bones, barreling into his quarters with a tricorder, a medical scanner, and a med kit. "Jim? Is what Spock's telling me true? Are you all right?"

The captain shrugged. "As well as I'm going to be, I suppose," he answered noncommittally. "I can think now, if that's what you're asking."

The doctor was already holding the whirring scanner over him, and scowling at his tricorder. "I don't believe it. All of your vitals are returning to normal, and your brainwaves…all of it. What happened?"

"I don't know," Jim said truthfully. Even if he had an inkling of what had done it, there was no proof.

"Fine time for you to go and miraculously get better on your own; we'd finally isolated the key chemical in the Elasian tears. We'd have had something in a day or two," McCoy grumbled.

"You're not glad I'm better, Bones?" Jim asked in amusement.

"Yes, I'm glad you're all right, but don't test me. I did work for a week for nothing, apparently."

"I appreciate it though. Anyway, I want to be back on the bridge in the morning. Will you clear me?"

"In the morning? After you've been down and out this long? You need to rest, Jim. _Really_ rest. You haven't been able to do that, and—"

The captain let out a breath. "I _need_ to be back on the bridge, Bones. I need to get back to work. If it makes you feel any better I'll promise I won't push myself too hard for a few days." He looked at his friend for a long time then, and finally the doctor relented. Maybe he saw something that told him not to argue.

"All right, Jim," he sighed. "You can have it your way this time. You've got a clean bill of health. Just let me know if I can help, all right?"

"You already have."

* * *

Spock seemed all but nonexistent for the next couple of days—not that anyone seemed to have any idea why—so Leonard was more than surprised the afternoon he showed himself in the officer's mess. The doctor was halfway through his own light dinner, and he surprised, too, when the Vulcan crossed to his lonely table and asked if he could be seated.

"Sure, Spock. What's up?"

"I believe the ceiling bulkheads are, generally, in that direction."

McCoy stared at him. "Oh my god, that was a joke, wasn't it?"

"I apologize. I must be fatigued."

"Harder not to act like the rest us when you're tired, is it?" Leonard teased right back. But he hadn't forgotten that the Vulcan seemed troubled, or why he'd realized it, and when Spock raised an eyebrow at him he shrugged.

"Anyway. What's going on, Mr. Spock?"

"Why do you assume that anything is 'going on?'"

"Jim's by himself at that table in the corner. If nothing was wrong you'd have sat with him, not me."

"I did not realize that the captain was present. Your table, Doctor, _is_ in a more direct line of sight in relation to the entrance.

Leonard snorted. "That's bull and you know it. You're a Vulcan. I've never known you to miss anything. You knew he was there, and you came over here. Now what the hell is going on with you two?"

"It is not your concern," Spock said stiffly.

"The hell it isn't. I am chief medical officer aboard this ship, Mr. Spock, and it's my job to make sure this crew is operating efficiently. If the captain and first officer aren't speaking to each other, that's inefficient."

"The captain and I speak quite often, Doctor. He is my friend as well as my commanding officer, and our positions generally require it." He sounded much more tired than anything else now.

"You know what I'm talking about. You spent the entire time he was stuck in his quarters hovering over him when you could, but something's been off since he got better."

"If _you_ knew that the captain was here, Doctor, then why are _you_ not sitting with him?"

McCoy sighed. "Jim came in after I did—not long ago, actually. _He_ really didn't see me, and he's human so he has that excuse. I almost went over there, but he looked like a man who needed to be left alone with his thoughts. Now I don't suppose that has anything to do with whatever might be wrong here, does it?" He sat back in his chair, and he realized his accent was lengthening as it often did when he was confident he was right.

Spock, though, ignored him and began to eat silently.

Leonard watched him, and something itched at the back of mind. Strangely enough, it always seemed like there was something he was forgetting when he talked to Spock these days. He chalked it up to the beginnings of old age and ignored it, but it was strange just the same.

Then, as he watched Spock and glanced across the room again at Jim, both of them stiff in their chairs but looking so exhausted all at once…

It clicked.

"Jim finally said something to you, didn't he?"

The Vulcan looked up slightly. "I beg your pardon?"

"I'll repeat what I said a minute ago: you know what I'm talking about."

After a moment of deliberation, Spock actually answered him. "Yes," he said simply. Though now he most certainly was not looking up.

McCoy's eyebrows went up briefly. He tried to decide what to say to that. There was no thought of responding in any way but seriously; he realized that by letting him know he was right about something like that Spock was reaching out to him as friend. It wasn't something that happened often.

"Well…you have a choice to make, don't you?" Spock didn't say anything to that, though he did look up again, and Leonard thought a moment more before he went on. He wanted to help if he could, but how did one give advice and/or emotional support to a Vulcan?

"I don't know how you…feel or not, Spock. I think I do, but then again I could be wrong. I uh…I guess all I can tell you is do what you have to do. Do whatever you can't not do." He paused. "It doesn't have to be the logical thing, either. You know that, don't you?"

Spock didn't answer the question, but he did respond. "Thank you for your concern, Doctor," he said quietly. "I will consider what you have said."

* * *

In his quarters, Spock pulled the small IDIC from his pocket that he had once given to Leonard. He had carried it since the day he'd had no choice but to take it back. He had others, but they had since been ignored.

_I really do have to let you go, don't I? _McCoy's voice echoed in his memory.

Whatever reconciliation the doctor had been able to come to within himself that night, Spock did not know. Perhaps if he remembered the meld he would know. He hoped that at least some part of McCoy had been at peace then.

But Spock knew that _he_ had not let Leonard McCoy go, even though he had buried his memories.

He loved Jim. He knew that, too, now. But if he did not let go of what he had already lost he could not move forward. Ignoring it was not releasing it. He was appalled at his own lack of logic in the matter.

_—do what you have to do. Do whatever you can't not do._

He had to let go. He had to move forward. To move forward was logical, and…

_It doesn't have to be the logical thing, either. You know that, don't you?_

Spock moved to his closet. In it he found a small decorative box his mother had given him long ago. She had sent it to him, when he was a student at the Academy. It contained pieces of his childhood, and at the time he had not understood the logic of such nostalgia.

"I know you don't understand," she had told him then. "Someday you will. Someday you'll be older and you'll understand the importance of memory, Spock…and also of the importance of putting them in their proper place."

She had meant the memories of his childhood. She had meant, at the time, that it was important to remember them but also important not to allow the negative parts of them to hurt him. To put them in their place. In the past. He did understand now. He was no longer the troubled boy he had been.

At least, he tried every day not to be.

There was an empty drawer in the wooden box, under the main section that contained the things his mother had sent him. When she had sent it to him, the message with it told him she had left the small drawer empty for a reason.

"Maybe you'll need it," she said.

It did not make any sense then. It did now.

He took the box and put it in an empty place on a shelf in his bedroom, beside a small, perfectly aligned stack of books. Perhaps it did not need to be hidden in a closet anymore. The IDIC was still in his hand, too. He looked at it for a long few minutes. Then he opened the box's small drawer, and placed it inside.

He closed the drawer and locked it. For a few seconds his hand rested atop the box, but then he walked away.

Whether or not it was logical, there was something he had to do.

* * *

After his regular bridge duty shift Jim ate alone—what he could eat, anyway—and retreated to his quarter. It had been like that for two or three days, and he wanted it that way. He wanted to be alone.

He didn't expect the chime at his door an hour later, and he didn't expect it to be Spock. Not yet, anyway.

Jim stepped away from the door to let him in, and the Vulcan stepped inside and let the door close.

Spock took a breath looked at him intently. "There are things I cannot tell you. You will have questions I cannot answer."

The worries of the last two days seemed to vanish in an instant and Jim smiled as he realized where Spock was trying to go with this. "I think we all have our secrets, Spock. God knows I do. And who knows? Maybe someday we won't need to keep them anymore. But I can live with it for now if you can."

"Then it does not concern you?"

The human shook his head, still smiling softly. "No…_you_ concern me. You always have."

Tentatively Jim reached out, not certain what was all right just yet. Spock's hand met his between them, and their fingers intertwined as they moved closer to one another. When skin met skin the Vulcan pulled in a quick breath, but it wasn't in panic this time.

Jim felt it too—like electricity between. A spark that told him this was right. The tie between them pulling tight and telling them not to let it unravel again. Jim blinked, a little startled, and was Spock smiling at him? No. Not quite. But the amusement was there, in his eyes. So was the love.

He reached up to the Vulcan's cheek with his free hand and let it rest there. A thumb wandered longingly over Spock's lips.

_It is all right now, Jim. _

Jim smiled again. The voice in his mind didn't seemed strange at all…like it had always been meant to be there.

_This_ time when he kissed Spock it was more how he'd always imagined it. The Vulcan was eager but gentle, and he didn't seem unpracticed, either. Maybe that was part of the things he didn't really want to share…but it didn't matter. He was no virgin himself. For so long Jim had been afraid they would never get here. Now they were here, and nothing else was important.

Their fingers disengaged to let them hold each other; to let them pull closer until they were pressed together. When the kiss ended—and then a few more after that—Spock's head dropped to his shoulder and he held Jim in a tight embrace that seemed something like a man holding a lifeline.

"Spock?" Jim whispered near his ear. "Are you all right?"

"I shall be, now."


	8. Chapter 8

Hey ya'll. School is still crazy and I was also a bit depressed all of one or two people reviewed the last chapter (thank you two people though!) and then I was distracted by new fic and anyhoo. I am back! And very close to spring break, so yay! I hope ya'll are still liking, and please please let me know if you are. :) Thanks so much for putting up with me!

Only episode referenced in this chapter is _Requiem for Methuselah_, and it's different and there's not a whole lot of it.

Chapter 8

2285

Leonard sat silently on the other side of the desk while Jim told his own side of the story; what of it McCoy didn't already know, anyway. He'd been there through most of Jim and Spock's relationship.

He remembered that day after the fiasco with Elaan. He remembered going to Jim's quarters that afternoon, hours after talking with Spock in the mess hall. He remembered being buzzed into the captain's quarters and finding Jim and Spock at the desk, sitting across from one another as if nothing were out of the ordinary. But his doctor's eye picked up how just slightly out of breath Jim was, and the indicators in their positions that told him they'd just sat down there at the chime. They hadn't been there like that more than few seconds. Jim's arm on the desk rested a little too far across it for a normal sitting position, reaching toward the Vulcan but forced to stillness. The captain was also suppressing a grin, and Spock…well, for once there was a hair or two out of place.

McCoy knew what had happened in an instant. He'd been there to check on Jim, but there wasn't any need for that anymore. "Good," he'd said. Then he'd turned around and left again, grinning to himself and leaving Jim and Spock behind him bewildered. Leonard was happy for them.

He didn't feel any differently about that moment now. There was no way he and Spock could have remained together, and he was glad Spock had been able to get past what had happened and allow himself to be happy with Jim.

But the story hadn't ended there. That wasn't the end of it; it wasn't happily-ever-after for Captain Kirk and his first officer from that point on. It had taken pain and effort to get to that part. Leonard sure as hell knew it, too. He'd been there through the bad just as well as the good.

Jim was quiet now, scrubbing his fingers through his graying hair. "I just…if that's what was really happening, then later, why…? I just…I don't understand." His eyes closed in pain. "And now we can never ask him."

Leonard knew what he meant. There were still so many unanswered questions. From what Jim said happened it seemed that day in Jim's quarters Spock had begun to move past everything that had gone badly…work through whatever conflict he'd felt after burying McCoy's memories. Spock and Jim had been together for more than two years after that day.

What happened at the end of the five-year mission, then? So why did Spock leave? Why did he go to Gol? Why had he tried to run from it all again long after it seemed he'd accepted it?

"I don't know, Jim," McCoy sighed tiredly.

Jim just shook his head, and there was more silence. They were both used to silence by now. Finally Jim looked up. "This may be the most ridiculous question I've ever asked, but are we all right?" he asked quietly.

Leonard scowled. "I'm not all right, and you're not all right, and I don't know if either of us will be for a while. But if you mean what I think you mean that _is_ a stupid question. I should be asking _you_ that! I'm the one who—"

"Bones, stop it," Jim groaned. "I really don't want to listen to you guilt-trip yourself right now. Just stop. It's _not your fault_. Any of it. I told you I'm not angry at you." His eyebrows went up almost in humor. "Maybe I feel like putting a phaser to my _own_ head, but anyway…" When McCoy made a face at him he sat back and waved it off. "I'm kidding."

"You'd better be,"

"You didn't answer the question."

"What question?"

"Bones, you're all I've got now," Jim said bluntly.

It was quiet again for a while, after that.

"I you're not running me off I'm not going anywhere, Jim," McCoy said, when he did finally speak.

The admiral nodded wearily in thanks and leaned forward over the desk again for its support. Jim's eyes unfocused, and Leonard knew what was coming. He was glad the bottle he'd polished earlier off wasn't the only one he had. Jim was going to need it later.

Right, now, that wasn't what he was worried about. He had his closest friend to worry about. The tears on Jim's face now were silent, but they were important. Somehow Leonard knew they were the first ones Jim had let himself cry.

"It's all right," McCoy drawled softly.

And it wasn't quite floodgates that opened—Jim wasn't exactly the type—but there was more, and he didn't let it loose until the doctor said it. Leonard stayed where he was, just there, because he could be. He needed to be.

Okay, so none of this was going to be easy. But at least what was left of their ridiculous trio of sorts was still in this life thing together.

* * *

Sixteen Years Ago

His relationship with Jim progressed differently. It was entirely different, really. Even during their quiet afternoons together Spock and Leonard had often bickered, as was their nature, but it had never been usual to argue with Jim and it was the same now. Somehow the difference made this new endeavor easier and harder at the same time.

But it was right. They knew that much. They felt it to their core. Jim did not even complain when Spock could not bring himself to allow their relationship to come to full physical intimacy immediately. Memories, even when locked away, leave their mark. It did not help that the last time he had been with Leonard…been with anyone…had been the moment that crushed any hopes for them both.

And he had hoped. He could not deny it. Spock had been so grateful the doctor was alive when he was cured, that he could not deny that his feelings remained. Then they were in McCoy's quarters, and…he had hoped. For a moment it seemed they both thought that perhaps something between them was still possible. That there was a way for it to work. Then his mind, his head, blossomed with bright pain and the hope was gone.

Leonard had asked him if the pain was great, and Spock told him then that it wasn't. He lied.

The physical pain hadn't been even the worst of it. None of that was easily forgotten, nor the contentment that he had felt in being with McCoy before they were forced apart. It meant that even though Spock had chosen, now, to follow this road laid before him with Jim…to allow himself these feelings for another…He did not regret it, but it was not always an easy thing.

Jim did not know his reasons, but the captain seemed to understand, at least, that valid reasons were there.

For a while, at first, they didn't speak about it. It simply did not happen. Spock took his leave when he felt he needed to. When he could go no further. When the pressure in his chest returned and he could not breathe he had gone too far.

He loved Jim. He wanted Jim, and he knew Jim wanted him. But just as coming this far had taken time, so would the rest.

One evening, as he pulled carefully away, he had the courage to offer an apology. "Jim…I am sorry. I know that you are likely not accustomed to…this. This waiting. It is not my intention to—"

"I don't need an explanation, Spock. I wouldn't be very supportive if I demanded one, would I?"

"Yet you are anxious, or perhaps frustrated. I see it, at times. When I am leaving. I'm sorry.

Jim smiled at him. "You told me there would be questions you couldn't answer. I'm not perfect, but I've tried to accept that."

"That does not mean you should not ask them. I think, perhaps, that because of that you've avoided asking any at all."

Jim blinked. He thought for a moment. "Maybe I have. I didn't want to make you uncomfortable."

Spock touched the human's cheek. "That you will always do…in a pleasing fashion, however."

The captain chuckled. "You're much more coy than I imagined, Spock." Then he sighed a bit. "In any case…you're right. Maybe I've erred on the side of caution. Not usually like me, but this is new territory."

"That much is certain."

"I don't suppose you _can_ tell me what's holding you back, could you?" Jim asked gently. Spock didn't have to respond to give an answer. He shifted where he sat on the edge of the captain's bed beside him, and Jim's hand rested on his arm. "Then all I can tell you is that I'm here, Spock."

The Vulcan nodded. He stood to go for now, but the warmth of knowing he was loved rested in his chest rather than any pressure.

* * *

Jim took Spock's suggestion. Sometimes he did ask questions. Sometimes he even received answers. Sometimes he received half an answer. If it became too serious he often didn't get one at all, but at least he was trying. They both were. After all, no matter what supposedly mystical ties there were between them, as long as this had taken it wasn't going to be smooth sailing all the way, was it?

But he didn't mind. Spock was _there _now. He'd always been there, but he was present now in a way he hadn't been before. Emotionally, perhaps, was part of it, even if that didn't show outwardly, but that wasn't exactly it. Perhaps it was the ties between them. Perhaps Jim was overthinking it and it was simply the fact that they understood each other's feelings now that made him feel more secure…content. But it didn't matter. No matter how slowly some things were progressing, they were progressing.

Spock was there, even when everything seemed to be going downhill. Even when someone else might have been angry with him.

Rayna. He'd shown kindness to a young woman who didn't seem to have met another soul besides her mentor for so long. Perhaps he'd even flirted…old habits. On more than one occasion Spock had raised an eyebrow at him or just outside his gaze and he'd had to check himself. Rayna was the sort of woman he would have fallen for, before now. Perhaps he'd fallen for her a bit even now. He was only human.

But she was not. A highly sophisticated android, created by the man she thought of as a father. She did not know she was being groomed for him. She did not know she wasn't as human as the rest of them.

"I just…I can't believe she's gone." His head rested heavily on his arms atop his desk. "It's my fault, Spock. I should have made it more clear to her. I…she loved me. She loved him. She loved us both, and it killed her, but I shouldn't have let her love me at all. I should have said something more. She didn't understand…"

"Jim, you did not know what she was or what emotions could do to the fragile balance of her system. You were not at fault. Even if she had fully understood that you were…unavailable…likely it would not have altered any feelings she developed. You are who you are, Jim, and she was who she was. It would have happened in any instance."

Jim let out a pained breath. "You can't know that for sure."

"It is only logical."

The captain sat up straighter to eye the Vulcan curiously. "You're talking about emotion. How the hell is any of this logical or not?"

Spock inclined his head a bit, and his expression softened. "Emotion…has its own logic. It is not logic in the traditional sense, but I have found it exists nonetheless. Or perhaps it should not be called logic so much as consistency in the way it behaves and manifests itself. In any case it is…something I have observed."

Jim looked at him for a moment. "And I was surprised you were the first to realize what was happening to her…what killed her. I shouldn't have been. I guess in some ways you're wiser than us all." He closed his eyes and let his head fall back to the desk. "But she's still dead. And it's still true that she wouldn't be if we hadn't come here."

A slim Vulcan hand on his shoulder wouldn't allow him to sink back into his misery alone. A gentle grip urged him from the desk chair, and when he obliged to stand he found himself in a welcome embrace. Cool lips found his, and he wasn't sure how long all of that lasted before he was being tugged to the bedroom.

"Spock…? You're sure…?"

It was barely a whisper managed, and there was a nod against his cheek. They fell into the bed a tangle.

* * *

Two years passed, and good years they were. They brought them toward the end of the _Enterprise_'s five-year mission, but Spock did not fear it. When this mission ended there would be Jim, and he would make certain he still saw McCoy often as well. He would have it no other way.

In truth, Spock almost welcomed the end of the mission. The end of it would bring time away from deep space, and away from danger. His love for Jim grew day by day, but though his feelings for Leonard had been put reverently in their place they were still, of course, there. As much as he cared for them both, as the months wore on it and grew to a year, and then two, it became increasingly difficult not to allow his personal bias and desire for their safety to affect his decisions as an officer.

He knew it had been this way for Jim from the beginning…that Jim had always cared for him. Jim had told him so more than once. And James Kirk was an exceptional commander. Spock told himself that if Jim could manage such things, then surely he, as a Vulcan, could do so.

He did. He managed it well, and he told himself that he was Vulcan and he did not fear the moment when he would fail. It was illogical to do so. There had been no incident. Why should there be one in the future? He was in control of himself, and his logic. His logic had suffered battering, but somehow accepting what was, and having a relationship with Jim…with the one to whom he tied…somehow it all helped him to repair it.

Spock no longer felt out of control. There had been pain, but his life was now on the path it should be on. His accomplishments as a Vulcan were great, there was one in his life who had been chosen by both logic and love, whom he expected would agree to bond with him when the time came, and the only other individual outside of family he had ever allowed himself to love was still a close and treasured friend.

He had no reason to be fearful. He had no more reason to regret.

* * *

"We'll have months for leave…plenty of time to put in requests about our assignments. If I get another command I'll make sure as much of the senior crew is reassigned with us as possible. Those that want to be, anyway. Not that I have any idea what Starfleet is planning. They may well promote me. God, I _hope_ they don't promote me," Jim was saying, lying back on Spock's bed with an arm slung behind his head.

The Vulcan sat on the other side of the partition at his desk, finishing reports. The subject of conversation had turned to what was to happen when the _Enterprise_ reported to Earth in a month to end her five-year mission.

"We'll have to go back to Iowa for a while; Mom keeps sending me messages asking when we're coming," the captain added. "We should visit your parents, too. You know your mother would appreciate it. Besides, I think Sarek is almost starting to approve of me."

"I believe the operative word of that statement is _almost_," Spock pointed out. "And it is not you in particular of which he disapproves."

"I know, I know; I remember that conversation."

Vulcan tradition and no natural reproduction options and quite a bit more that Spock had tried to explain as delicately as possible after the first time Jim had joined him for shore leave. It had been the first leave he'd taken on Vulcan after tentatively beginning to repair his relationship with his father during the journey to Babel. It had been the first leave he'd taken on Vulcan in years, in fact.

Perhaps it had been unwise to bring Jim, but he had determined that he would no longer hide from Sarek in any way. Sarek had never known about Leonard; he would know of Jim Kirk from the beginning.

Spock's relationship with his father was still strained, but less than before despite the new point of contention. At least he could go home when he wished to. Having Jim with him when he did helped.

Now, Spock switched of his computer screen and went around into the bedroom to lower himself onto the other half of the bed.

"Done with your reports?"

"For the most part." He kissed the human beside him, and Jim smiled.

"Earth first? We can relax a while before we try to tackle Vulcan again."

Spock arched an eyebrow. "Logical."

Jim huffed a laugh and pulled him closer.

* * *

It was the last mission—the last new planet to visit, the last exploratory detail, the last away team, the last everything. Jim decided the first party to beam down to this last destination would be only himself, Spock, and Bones, just as the three of them had beamed down together so many times before.

Maybe he was nostalgic, but the three of them had faced a lot. They had their extended family in the rest of the senior crew, too, but either way he wanted this last hurrah. It seemed fitting, and no one argued. There would be time for other teams later. Once the captain, first officer and doctor had taken the lay of the land other parties would come down and spread out for further exploration. As long as there was no danger, of course.

As much as Jim liked excitement, he was hoping for a smooth ride on this one.

The surface, when they materialized, was spartan. Rocks and tufty purple and blue grass in patches. There seemed to be a small stand of trees in the distance in the same color scheme as the smaller foliage, but Jim couldn't be sure. In any case, despite the relative barrenness it was exciting. Too often they came across planet surfaces that were far too much like Earth to be interesting. It wasn't a bad way to end the mission, really.

"Fascinating," Spock said.

Jim smiled to himself. "Spread out. Let's just make sure there's not more here than there looks like before we call down the science parties."

Spock and Bones complied, fanning out with their tricorders as Jim paced away from the beam-down site himself. Some of the jutting rocks made large formations that soon put both of his officers out of sight, but they knew not to go far on the first beam-in and to keep in touch. He wasn't worried about them.

He should have been, he thought, when he heard Spock shout. Jim ran back the way he'd come, in the direction of the sound. He rounded a boulder formation just in time to hear Bones shout at him to get down.

Jim hit the deck—or rather the hard grey dirt—just as a some sort of transparent light or energy beam fanned out above his head. Several feet away McCoy was kneeling by Spock's side; the Vulcan was unconscious.

"Stay down," Bones told him urgently. "I saw that beam hit Spock when he came around those same rocks, and he went down. I was farther away, over there." He made a motion, but where he was indicating wasn't important. "I was safe. Anyway, it must be activated by motion or something like that, but it's aimed higher. If we stay down we'll be fine."

Jim crawled over to them, to Spock's other side. "What's it done to him? Just knocked him out? Is he all right?" He scowled worriedly down at his first officer; the Vulcan was shifting, murmuring in an upset fashion, but he was still unconscious.

McCoy was making faces at his tricorder. "I don't know…he's not just out. It's some kind of light coma or hallucinatory state."

"Can you bring him out of it?"

"I'd rather get him back to the ship first before I try anything."

Jim nodded in agreement, then glanced up to the level at which the beam had swept over them. He traced it back to a small opening in one of the rocks and let out a breath. "Let's get out from under that thing's range first. I don't want to try transporting from right here."

Bones seemed to agree with him on that. It was awkward and hard going, dragging the lanky Vulcan far enough to get back around the rock formation when they couldn't stand, but they managed.

"He's too skinny. How the hell does he weight so much?" McCoy complained.

Jim rolled his eyes, trying to forestall his anxiousness over Spock, and stood now that it was safe and pulled his communicator from his belt.

* * *

Spock vaguely remembered beaming down…spreading out. He remembered walking around a large rock formation, and then…nothing. Something hit him. Blackness.

He woke like this, held by metal bands to this upright post. To his left were Jim and then McCoy, restrained in the same way. He could see nothing around them; a dense fog blotted out any hint of surroundings. Strange. There had been no fog on the planet's surface before now.

"Jim? Doctor?"

Jim made a low sound, and his head rose. "I'm awake, Spock…what happened?" The captain looked around them, seeing the same thing—not much—and glanced at the doctor. "Bones. Bones!" McCoy began to wake, and Jim began to test the strength of the bonds. Spock had been doing the same. There was a seam in each of the bands in the middle, as if they opened and were, perhaps, automated.

"What in the Sam Hill…?" McCoy was swearing as he woke.

A voice came from beyond the fog, and a dark shape became just visible. Around it, more shapes…many of them. Humanoid shapes. People, gathered around them from all sides. But not a single face visible.

_**"You are trespassers. We do not tolerate trespassers here. We do not wish visitors. We wish only to be left alone,"**_the voice told them. It seemed to come from the larger dark shape, but there was no way to be certain. As it spoke, there was indecipherable murmuring from the crowd that surrounded it just out of reach and out of sight.

Spock looked at the captain, who narrowed his eyes at the hazy vision before them. "All right then. Let us contact our ship, and we'll go."

_**"One of you will die before we release you."**_

"_What_?" McCoy questioned quickly.

"Wait, wait," Jim said. "We're sorry. Our scans showed no lifeforms. We didn't mean to trespass here. We'll just g—"

He cut off, stopped by, Spock assumed, the same pain that gripped him. It came from the metal bands—if they were truly even metal. It was energy of some sort, crackling and setting his teeth on edge and searing his nerves. It only lasted for a moment, but he heard Jim and McCoy shout.

_**"Silence! Your insolence will not be tolerated! One of you will die. Which will it be? We give you the right to choose amongst yourselves."**_

Spock spoke quickly, before either of the others could. "Me. If you must kill one of us it will be me." He hoped he was only stalling for time, but he also knew that he would gladly give his life to keep Jim Kirk and Leonard McCoy alive.

He heard them protesting. Of course they would protest. Jim insisted he was captain. It was his decision. McCoy did little more than sputter angrily. Then came the voice once more. The leader here, perhaps…the larger shape, maybe, looked something like a dais now.

_**"No. You will not die. You will choose which of the others will die."**_

A trap. They'd trapped him. He should not have spoken.

"I will not." He meant to be firm. He was, but it still came out rough.

The pain came again, though only for him this time.

_**"You will."**_

Spock swallowed when the pain stopped and straightened himself. "No."

This time, he was left alone. This time, both Jim and McCoy cried out and curled in pain—as much as they could restrained upright the way they were.

_**"You will choose, or they will both die. Now."**_

"I cannot—"

"Spock, DO it!" Jim grated out. His eyes were pained as he said it, but he said exactly what the Vulcan would have expected of him. "Tell them to kill me and you and Bones get the hell out of here! Ah!"

"Jim—"

"Do it! That's an order!"

_**"What is your choice?"**_

The pain stopped for the captain and the doctor, but neither of them looked any better, understandably.

"That's ridiculous!" McCoy gasped quietly. "Spock, don't! If one of us is expendable it's me…"

"Bones, shut up! That's an order, too," Jim shot back.

_**"What is your choice?"**_

How could he make such a choice? If he were human he would have cried. He would have screamed. But he was not human. Only half. He was Vulcan.

"To force such a choice is not logical. Where is the gain in it? You cannot—"

_**"What is your choice!"**_

"Spock!" Jim was shouting. Not only Jim.

The pain came again, and Spock shouted through it in the closest he would come outwardly to frustration and fear. "I cannot make such a choice! Take _my_ life if you must!"

"No, you green-blooded—!"

_**"Then we will choose."**_

McCoy stopped abruptly at the pronouncement, and that was when Jim screamed. The energy exuded from the restraints crackled around him, but this time there was thin smoke and the smell if singed flesh. In a moment it stopped, the captain's restraints snapped open, and he fell to the ground.

"Jim!"

"Damnit! Jim!"

The human on the ground twitched once, pulled in a shallow-half breath that seemed to cause him a great deal of pain, and then went abruptly still.

The thread in Spock's mind snapped.

James Kirk was dead.

* * *

"Well?" Jim asked. He crossed his arms and eyes the doctor over the biobed where Spock rested. Not that he was resting. He tossed in his sleep, agitated, trapped in whatever state that beam had put him in.

"I've given him everything that might even remotely be safe. He should be awake, but he's not. He should be bouncing off the damn walls. But he's still under, and I don't like these neural readings. Far too stimulated. He'd be having a panic attack if he were human."

Between them Spock gave an inarticulate shout then, anguished and piercing, and Jim cringed. He saw Bones do the same even as they both moved into action to hold the Vulcan's arms. He wasn't actually moving very much or very far, but he gave the appearance of thrashing violently nonetheless.

"My god, Bones; what the hell was that?" he swallowed.

McCoy looked just as haunted as he felt. "I wish I knew."

* * *

"Jim! Jim!"

McCoy was still shouting, uncertain and desperate, but Spock knew he was dead. He felt it. He could only stare, disbelieving and shaking inside.

Then McCoy shouted in the same way Jim had, and that shocked him from his near catatonia.

"NO! Spare him! You may do what you will to me!"

But the burning smell was already worse. The energy quickly died down again and the doctor was slumping. Then again, it did not seem to have been as long this time. Perhaps they had listened. Perhaps he still lived.

"Doctor! Leonard!"

McCoy's restrains released and he slumped to the ground as Jim had. He made no attempts to break his fall, but neither was he twitching.

_**"You did not choose. We were forced to take both of their lives."**_

Then Spock's restrains snapped back, and rather than protest any further uselessly he stumbled quickly to the prone forms in the dirt. He went around Jim's body and dropped to his knees at McCoy's side. He knew Jim was dead but he looked back anyway…he checked desperately for a pulse, but of course there was none.

His throat was tight when he heard the moan by his knees, and he turned back to McCoy. "Leonard? Leonard…" Quickly he gathered the smaller man in his arms, pulling the doctor's head and shoulders up onto his knees and clinging to him.

McCoy coughed weakly, grimaced in pain, and then he would have been shouting hoarsely if he had more voice than the whisper he managed. "What…hell is wrong with you! You…could've saved him! You…! Damn…Spock!

"How could I make that choice? I could not. I—"

"You're a Vulcan…and you're with Jim…I was all right with it…you should have saved him…gotten out of here…stayed together…stupid Vulcan magic…were supposed to be together…"

Spock blinked, for McCoy was no longer supposed to know anything of that. But he saw it in the doctor's eyes. The memories were there. Jared free by the near-fatal energy charge?

McCoy's breathing was becoming shallower. More difficult. Slower. His eyelids were dropping. The charge had not been near fatal. He was dying even now.

"Doctor, please. Save your strength. I will contact the _Enterprise_. You will live." He even reached for his communicator, as if he would try. He was going to try. He knew that now. And if the voice and its watchers were still there, beyond the fog, they said nothing. "Leonard, please…" His own voice grew more pleading.

"Hadn't called me _that_ in a while…" Mumbled.

Spock did not answer. He opened his communicator, but it was dead.

"Spock…"

"You will not die." It was only ridiculous denial now.

"'s stupid…cause you're an idiot…still love you…"

The tightness in his throat became a vice that would not allow him to speak. He held the doctor closer, bending over him as if attempting to will the life back into him. "Do not die," he gasped finally.

There was no answer. McCoy was already gone.

* * *

"Spock…"

Jim had pulled a chair to the side of the bed as they monitored him, because Bones had determined that all they could do now was keep an eye on him and wait and hope he came out of it. There was nothing more to be done.

The captain sat motionless, staring, holding Spock's hand and hoping, when he realized there were tears on the Vulcan's face.

* * *

Spock was still bent over the bodies of the two humans who had meant most to him when there were footsteps behind him. Uninterested, but with nothing else that he could do, he looked up.

There was movement where the larger shadow rested. A figure stood, and moved forward…down from the platform and toward him. Slowly it took shape and emerged from the fog.

A perfect replica of himself, staring down at him dispassionately. "You killed them," it said coldly. "Your emotionalism has cost them their lives."

Behind the figure standing over Spock the other humanoid shapes began to move into view. The crew of the Enterprise. His classmates from his childhood on Vulcan. The cadets of his class at Starfleet Academy. Anyone and everyone he had ever known.

"I don't understand…" Spock gasped.

"This is your doing," his replica told him in uncertain terms. "Had you never given in to your emotions you could have made the decision. You could have saved one of them."

Spock thought he had buried that doubt, long ago. But he knew in recent months it had concerned him again. And now…

No. No! But…

_It IS my doing. I am to blame. By loving them I doomed them. I've known it. I ignored it. I even believed it was not so. _

He thought, perhaps, that his replica sneered, but he wasn't looking. The figures retreated and he was alone on the cold ground, shivering.

* * *

Jim was wiping away the tears on Spock's face when the Vulcan gasped, and his eyes flickered open. He was nearly sobbing, and his hands found Jim's against his face and held them and wouldn't let them go.

"Spock! Oh god…Bones!"

Spock was already shaking his head, trying to say that he required no medical attention. Beyond that he had no response other than to gasp in trying not to truly cry. There were no new tears, but his chest heaved. Jim swallowed and did the only thing he could think to do. He climbed into the biobed with him and held him.

When McCoy hurried in Jim quickly waved him away again. With his face buried in Jim's shoulder Spock never saw the doctor.

"Spock, it's all right. You're safe. Whatever you saw, it wasn't real. You were dreaming. You're safe. We're all safe. It's all right. I'm here. Spock…"

Spock shivered in his arms for half the night. Finally he fell into sleep—real sleep—but Jim refused to leave him. He stayed there until morning.

In the morning Spock wouldn't so much as look at him.


	9. Chapter 9

Thanks for the support, ya'll! I can't wait to hear from ya'll. Thanks so much for the reviews. I couldn't do it without you guys. Have a great weekend everybody! :)

This chapter references _Star Trek: The Motion Picture_.

Chapter 9

By the time morning came Spock was silent and unresponsive, and Bones couldn't tell Jim why. There was nothing wrong with the Vulcan beyond some residual side effects of whatever the hell had happened to him. Only the medical scanners, though, told them that he was experiencing any nausea or dizziness or weakness at all. He said nothing to them.

Spock would not look at or talk to anyone. There was no medical reason for him to be nearly catatonic, but he was. He seemed to register it, occasionally, when someone was near him, but that was the extent of it.

"If he were human I'd say it was psychological trauma, but…" Bones trailed off. Jim was pacing anxiously beside him, trying to listen, and Doctor M'Benga picked up the line of thought.

"It's rare with their controls, yes, but it isn't impossible for a Vulcan to be psychologically traumatized. And Spock is half-human. We know from the scanner readings while he was under that he was seeing _something_. Whatever it was—"

"But even if it's possible for him to be traumatized that way, could a dream do that?" Jim questioned. "He won't even _look_ at me, for god's sakes."

McCoy sighed. "Geoff's right, Jim. It's possible, and if whatever he saw or what happened to him in there was awful enough, or played upon the right fears or insecurities—because he _does_ have them, and we both know it—it doesn't matter if it was real or not, if he thought it was real then." The doctor let out a heavy breath. "And god knows what happened in there."

There was nothing Jim could do but be there. For days he sat at Spock's side in sickbay, as the _Enterprise_ made its way home to Earth.

It wasn't quite how he'd pictured the mission ending.

The day before they arrived in Terran space he was shaken awake by Bones; he'd fallen asleep with his head in his arms on the edge of the biobed again. This morning, though, McCoy was waking him to ask where the hell Spock was. Not even the night shift nurse had seen him leave. He could have been gone for hours.

Jim hurried to the Vulcan's quarters, hoping he had simply returned there. He was right. He heard footsteps and movement inside as soon as the door opened. He didn't need the override to go in without being admitted; he and Spock had both reprogrammed their doors to allow the other in automatically long ago.

"Spock?"

There was no answer, and Jim looked around the room in bewilderment. Standard-issue packing containers sat stacked against one wall, and there was little else here. Oh. Of course. He should have been packing his own quarters, but he'd been understandably distracted…

"Spock?" He rounded the corner into the bedroom portion of the cabin and found the Vulcan packing the last of his books. "Spock, are you all right? You just…left sickbay. Bones isn't too happy at the moment."

Spock cleared his throat, and after a moment he spoke softly. As he did he didn't look up. He straightened, set the container he was packing on a shelf and proceeded to continue arranging the items in it.

"I…have been better," he admitted. "However, I require no medical attention. It was senseless to remain in the sickbay any longer when this needed to be done."

Jim sighed. "I could have done that, you know."

"There was no need. I am physically well, now."

"And other than physically?" Spock didn't answer. "All right…you don't want to talk yet. But I'm here when you need me. You know that." Jim paused. "Anyway…at least we'll on Earth soon. Maybe a few weeks on the farm is just what the both of us need."

The Vulcan paused at that. He still did not look up. "I am not staying on Earth. I must return to Vulcan."

Jim frowned in confusion. "What do you mean? Why do we need to go to Vulcan first?"

Spock shook his head. "Not…not we. I must go to Vulcan alone," he said. Finished with the container he was giving his attentions to, he sealed it, lifted it, and moved past Jim out into the main room. Jim followed him, and watched him set it atop the stack that was already out there.

Jim swallowed. "Spock, what are you talking about? What's going on? Something is wrong with you. Something happened on that planet."

The Vulcan nodded minutely. "Yes," he said quietly. "Something."

"What? What happened? What did you see? I want to help you, Spock, but I can't if you won't let me. I thought you knew that by now. Everything we've been through together—"

Spock shook his head then, and finally he looked up enough for their eyes to meet. "I understand. But you cannot help me. I must return to Vulcan, for now. I must…be alone."

"Why? What did that thing do to you? _What's wrong_?" Jim heard himself beginning to sound desperate, and he carefully schooled his voice.

Spock let out an uneven breath and looked away again. "That I cannot answer." He paused, and Jim thought he saw him swallow. "I am sorry," he whispered.

"Spock…" Jim reached for the Vulcan's arm, but he had scarcely brushed it before Spock pulled away and moved back into the bedroom to check for anything that he had not yet packed.

Jim followed him haltingly, and he didn't know what to think anymore. What was Spock saying? All Jim wanted to do was take him in his arms and make whatever was bothering him or hurting him stop but he didn't even know what it was. There was no way for him to know what Spock had seen. If that was even the problem. But it had to be.

He realized he'd stopped in the middle of the bedroom. Spock was at the closet door, gathering the last of the things there. He took another step, and the Vulcan's shoulders tensed.

"Captain, please—"

"_Captain_? Spock, you haven't called me captain when we were alone in two years." His chest ached now. What had that beam done to Spock? What was Spock doing now? Was Jim losing him? It didn't make any sense.

"Please go."

"Go?" Jim echoed dully.

Spock didn't repeat himself. His silence was the answer. The Vulcan had a hand braced on the doorframe of the closet, and Jim thought he saw it press in until the flesh was white, but what could he do? Did it mean anything?

"All right," Jim said finally. He left, numbly. If Spock was going to talk to him it wasn't going to be now.

But he wasn't able to talk to Spock later, either. The _Enterprise_ docked, there were duties to be performed, and Jim saw his first officer but there was no time to speak of anything beyond duty for two days. When he was able to, he tried. He looked for Spock, now that all docking duties had been performed, and ship cleaned and straightened and emptied. Everyone's belongings shipped to their respective homes. The engines and all non-essential systems shut down.

But the personnel were free to leave and Spock was already gone.

* * *

It was the only option open to him. He should have known it the first moment he allowed his emotions any purchase.

He could not go on this way. Not as a danger to Jim, and to Leonard, and therefore to others as well. He could not. The emotions Spock held for them both were too strong; they would bring only disaster in the end, and he saw it now. He could no longer allow himself to believe anything else. What he had seen had not been real, but that did not matter. It could be real, someday.

Because it was the only right and logical thing to do, the emotions that could bring such disaster would be eradicated. The only way to do such a thing was to erase emotion entirely. Kolinahr.

He had found he could not tell Jim that. He tried. He wished to be as honest as he could when there were such large things already that he could not reveal, but he found when he tried, when Jim found him in his quarters that morning, that he could not say it. He could not tell Jim outright that their relationship was ending, because he did not want it to be so. Peace with its end would come with Kolinahr, but that would come later.

Now, Spock ached. It was both a physical sensation and a mental one, and he was not unfamiliar with it. He had felt it, nearly three years ago now, and for a long while then. When Leonard McCoy was lost to him.

Now they were both lost to him. But he chose it. For their safety. For their well-being. There was no other way to be certain he would never endanger them.

He could not say goodbye to Jim. He could not say goodbye to either of them. It was better if he did not. But when all duties had been done and he had arranged for his things to be shipped to Vulcan and he took his single carrying case and went to the airlock that linked the ship to spacedock…

The doctor caught him.

"Spock, what are you doing?"

"I am going home. To Vulcan."

"And what about Jim?"

"Doctor…"

"You can't just leave like this! I don't care what went on in your head. And if it was that bad then let us help you, damnit! That's what we're here for. Whatever you're doing, this isn't the way to deal with it."

"It may not be the human way, Doctor. But I am a Vulcan. I am going to Vulcan to do what I must, _as_ a Vulcan. It is the only way, for me. Surely by now you understand this."

Why must he always question? Spock wondered. Why was it that Leonard must always make things more difficult for him? It wasn't what the doctor meant to do. He only cared, and Spock understood that. Now, however, even knowing that was painful. It encouraged memories.

"I understand you're just as stubborn as you always were. You've hurt Jim before being that way, and now you're doing it again," McCoy replied heatedly.

Spock was quiet for a long moment. _I also hurt you. _"That is why I must go. I do not wish to harm him again. I do not wish to harm anyone." He had not meant to say so much, but it had been said and he could not unsay it. At least it was the truth.

"What do you mean? What are you talking about?"

He did not answer. "I must go. I am meeting a shuttle bound for a transport to Vulcan. It has been an honor to serve with you, Doctor, but I must take my leave of you now," he said. It came out quite stiff, but now there would be emotion in his voice if he did not keep it that way.

"You're not coming back, are you?"

Spock had turned to go, but he looked back briefly. "I do not know," he admitted. He paused a moment longer and raised his hand in the Vulcan salute.

"Live long and prosper, Leonard McCoy," he said quietly.

The doctor raised a hand in return, but gave up on forming a salute and simply waved it to him, defeated. "Yeah…you too."

* * *

The journey to Vulcan took what seemed like much longer than usual, and Spock arrived fatigued and worn.

His mother occupied their estate alone when he arrived. Sarek was gone; a short diplomatic trip that she had chosen not to accompany him on as he would not be gone long. She greeted Spock and led him to his room, but rather than leave him be then she remained as he set down his case. She seemed to sense something in the demeanor of her quiet son.

"Spock…what's happened?" she asked gently. "I saw your message…that it only said you were coming home now rather than later, but not why. It didn't say anything of why Jim isn't with you, either. Your father and I were expecting both of you." She paused when he didn't answer. "I know something's wrong, Spock. I may be only human, but I am your mother. As such I do have a certain sort of intuition."

"So I have observed." Spock sat slowly on the edge of his bed. His mother he could not evade, and he would not try. He took a breath. "James Kirk and I no longer have an intimate relationship," he said simply.

"Why?"

"It is difficult to explain, and I cannot."

He did not want to. He did not wish to think of it any further. He would have to, later. To achieve Kolinahr these things would be dealt with and removed and replaced by logic. For now, however…he was not required to think of any of it and he would not. There would be some amount of time that he would need, to prepare himself before going to Gol to petition for entry into the discipline of Kolinahr. For that time, at least, he need not think of it. In was better if he did not, really. It was better to distance himself from the pain in preparation.

He told himself these things, and yet the thoughts persisted. The pain remained. In his mind he could see the memories that had been only illusion…and illusion though they had been they were so vivid it did not matter. Jim's shaking final breath and Leonard berating him for his foolishness even as he died in Spock's arms, and both of them screaming in pain and both of them dead at his knees…

His own face, staring at him coldy. Telling him what he already knew. What he should have known.

"Spock?"

His mother. His mother was still here. She sat quietly beside him; not too close for she had learned well over the years how to treat her Vulcan son.

Spock felt himself shiver once, almost imperceptibly, but he was sure his mother had seen it when he tentatively looked up at her and she was looking back with concern.

"I am all right, Mother."

It was the first time he had ever truly lied to her.

She saw right through it. "Oh, Spock…"

Under normal circumstances she would not touch him. She knew not to. She knew to show her affection in other ways if she showed it at all. But Amanda looked at him, and she must have seen something in his eyes that told her he would not push her away now, because she reached out. She rested a hand on her son's shoulder and he did not move away.

The total assertion of logic would come. He was here for that. To be cleansed. But before there was Gol, and Kolinahr…

Now there was pain. Now he did not mind that his mother was here, and he found he had no more defenses with which to refuse her. She shifted closer and gently pulled his head down to her shoulder. She held him lightly, and stroked his hair, and he did not mind. Spock did not return the embrace, either, or speak, but he did not move for quite some time.

* * *

For weeks Jim waited for any word from Spock. He sent messages to Vulcan and received no replies. His mother followed him worriedly around their Iowa home, but said nothing.

The sixth week he finally received a message, but it was not from Spock. It was text only, and written by Sarek. Still, much of the content was what he had expected. What he had feared when Spock disappeared so suddenly after the _Enterprise_ docked.

Sarek informed him that his son had gone to Gol to undergo the training of Kolinahr. The training would purge all emotion, which Jim knew. He'd heard of it. The message also informed him that after achieving Kolinahr Spock would have no need for attachment or for a mate, physically or otherwise. Therefore any relationship that Jim had with Spock was now effectively over.

It was all very straightforward and formal. Vulcan. This was Sarek, after all, but…at the end, the tone changed just enough for Jim to notice. The words were not exactly there, they were talked around rather than said, but he got the distinct impression that the man who would have been his father-in-law was expressing sympathy for him. Or perhaps apologizing. Jim didn't know how to feel about that.

It was the same week Starfleet Command sent him word—after their final official review of the _Enterprise's_ five-year mission logs—that he was to be promoted to admiral. It was supposed to be good news but to Jim it felt like a death sentence. He had not been assigned to a post yet, but he knew he would be on the ground and that was awful enough.

No ship. No crew. No Spock.

He wanted to go back to San Francisco, to Command, find out where he would be posted and get to work on finding an apartment or something more constructive, just so he would be doing something and he wouldn't have to think about it.

Instead Jim woke up sick the morning he'd planned to leave Iowa, and it seemed fitting. He spent the next week in bed whether he wanted to or not.

He didn't want to go to the doctor. It seemed ridiculous that after five years in space and relatively perfect health he would suddenly be ill now—without alien influence, anyway. But after the first day or two he realized there was probably more to it than germs.

He called Bones. His old friend had gone home to Georgia, and while Jim didn't exactly ask him to come he came anyway. McCoy was there by the end of the day, with a med kit and a suitcase and an ear.

* * *

Really it was Bones who got Jim through the years that followed. With McCoy retired from Starfleet, home in Georgia practicing medicine and doing research, and Jim in San Francisco as head of Starfleet Operations, it wasn't difficult. With both of them anywhere on the same planet it wouldn't have been difficult, and they were on the same continent, even. Transporters really were a miracle. Sometimes it was easy to forget travel hadn't always been so easy.

Bones complained, of course, about transporting so often—especially using civilian transport stations not operated or kept up by someone has highly trained as Scotty—but he came several times a week anyway. When Jim could, between the numerous duties of his position, he saved Bones the trouble and went out to Georgia instead. But he couldn't do that often.

Still McCoy came, though. Sometimes Bones made it to his apartment in the afternoon before Jim did. Particularly if the admiral had sounded anything less than just fine the last time he'd sent a message. After a while, at the beginning, it almost became annoying.

"Bones, I'm _fine_," he said once, after the first few months. "You have no idea how much I appreciate that you're around, but you really could back off at least a little."

McCoy shrugged and sat forward over the glass in his hand. "Well excuse me, but I'm _supposed _to be keeping an eye on you until that stubborn Vulcan realizes he's an idiot and comes back." Jim scowled in confusion. "And no, he didn't ask me. But he would have. If he weren't an idiot," Bones added quickly, draining his drink and smacking the glass down onto the kitchen counter between them.

"I don't want to talk about it, Bones. It doesn't matter. He's not coming back." Jim rubbed at his face. "At least I have to tell myself that so I don't hope and I don't go crazy doing it."

Bones seemed to understand, and after that it got better. He settled into his new position, his new life here on Earth, and even though he didn't particularly like having a ground assignment, he did the job well. And Bones _was_ there, on Earth, and they did hear from the rest of the Enterprise senior crew on occasion. They stayed in touch, and it seemed Scotty and Uhura and Sulu and Chekov were to be lifelong friends to them.

Jim was glad of it. He still wished, someday, that they'd have a ship again…and who knew. He was admiralty now, but it could happen, couldn't it?

* * *

2273

It happened. Two and half years after the five-year mission was over, it happened. An emergency large enough that Starfleet wanted Jim in command of a ship to investigate and to do something about it. It took some wheedling, but they gave him the refit _Enterprise_ and they gave him his crew. He even managed to rope Bones into coming back, at least for this trip.

He tried not to think about the fact that their family was together again, but with the obvious exception of Spock.

And then Spock was there. The Vulcan transport met them halfway out toward the strange intruder into their galaxy that was approaching Earth, and Jim had been so successful in not thinking of Spock that he never thought it might be him. He didn't realize what it was in the back of his mind that was warming—the old connection, the thread that bound them—until the turbolift door opened and Spock strode onto the bridge.

Jim wanted to be angry. Maybe he should have been, and certainly when the Vulcan looked right at him when welcomed and said nothing.

But all he could do as Spock launched quickly into business was smile to himself when the Vulcan wasn't looking.

The pain of realizing that Spock acted as if nothing had been between them—that he was cold and severe, now, and even quieter than he always had been—didn't come until after the first time he and Bones tried to really talk to him. It was ridiculously difficult even to get the Vulcan to sit, and when he did Jim was searching his face for…anything. But there was nothing.

"On Vulcan I began sensing a consciousness…" Spock began. "From a source more powerful than I have ever encountered. Thought patterns of exactingly perfect order."

_Perfect order. And of course that's all you're after now. God, Spock, what's wrong? Why the Kolinahr? Why have you shut yourself off? Why did you leave?_

"I believe they emanate from the intruder. I believe _it _may hold my answers."

_What answers? I thought Kolinahr was your answer. And your answer to what? What went wrong?_

Damnit. He was supposed to be all right, Jim thought. He was supposed to be over this. But then, if he was connected to Spock as irreversibly as he had once been led to believe…as he had felt he was…then could he ever truly move past it all? Would he ever feel complete, without Spock? He'd come as close as he could, the last two years or more. He'd told himself he was fine.

He wasn't fine, was he?

And what about Spock?

"Well, isn't it lucky for you that we just happened to be heading your way," Bones was saying, with no small amount of sarcasm.

"Bones," Jim chastised. "We need him." If they were going to figure out what this destructive presence heading straight for Earth was and find a way to stop it. "_I_ need him," he added more quietly then. He sat forward when he said it, and he hoped Spock was listening to more than what he said.

It didn't seem he was.

"Then my presence is to our mutual advantage."

It was all Spock said. Nothing more.

Jim carefully locked away his heart. It had no place here.

* * *

Kolinahr had not been entirely achieved when Spock heard the call from the depths of space.

But it was a very near thing. Jim stared at him on the bridge when he came aboard and he felt nothing. The connection was there, and he knew what he should have felt, but he did not. His training held.

It held until the moment he melded with V'Ger. It held until a consciousness so much colder and more barren, even, than he had tried to be overwhelmed his own. It left him shaken, and empty, and he felt V'Ger's hopelessness and helplessness and complete lack of anything beyond logic and he knew that was not what he wished to be.

Logic was to be his savior. The savior of the two he cared too much for to jeopardize. Logic was to purge him of his dangerous emotions and leave him free.

But what V'Ger had was what he thought he had strived for. And what V'Ger had was no freedom. It was another type of slavery; another sort of hell. It was being limited, totally incapable of emotion, of caring, of decency, and that was not freedom.

Spock remembered nothing between the meld and waking in sickbay, where he lay motionless and weary. The meld had strained him, his system shocked and in need of recovery. McCoy hovered about him worriedly, and Spock watched him when he could keep his eyes open and allowed himself, for the first time in years now, to remember.

Was it possible that he had been wrong? Was the eradication of his emotions the wrong step to take? And even if it had been, could he afford to let go of everything that Kolinahr had given him? The peace?

But was it really peace, or was it stagnation? Perhaps if he had pursued it for the reasons another Vulcan might have it would be peace that he had gained, but he had pursued it as a way of solving a problem. Of fleeing a problem that perhaps was not even the problem he thought it to be.

Logic was not enough. V'Ger—a being as perfectly logical as V'Ger—wanted more. But Spock had thought to excise anything beyond logic from his existence.

He had done it for Jim, and for Leonard. He only wished to protect them, but perhaps he could not protect them. There was always danger, in deep space or not. There was always the chance that today could be one's last. Anyone. In any place. He himself could very well have died only hours ago, when he melded with V'Ger.

_I have been a fool. I was afraid._

And he had hurt Jim once again, in leaving. All of this revelation in so small an instant and it left him nearly paralyzed. Spock had not moved an inch on the biobed in sickbay when Jim arrived there, and he was not really seeing the ceiling bulkheads he was staring blankly up at.

But the captain—the admiral, he corrected himself—was in need of an explanation. He needed information. About V'Ger. He needed to know what had happened out there. Spock tried to explain, and he nearly lost consciousness again. Trying to think about it all, to understand it all, and not giving himself the time to mentally recover, he had exhausted himself even further.

But Jim had to know. Jim's hands were on his shoulders, trying to wake him up. They disappeared for a moment, and Spock faintly heard the doctor protesting that his Vulcan patient needed rest and time to recuperate—but then the hands were at his shoulders again. Spock forced his eyes open and pulled his hand up from the bed to grip the admiral's arm.

"Jim…"

Spock squeezed, trying to make him understand, and Jim took the hand that was on his arm and held it tightly.

"_This_…simple feeling," Spock told him, "is beyond V'Ger's comprehension." And he was explaining what he had discovered but there was more to it than that. Their hands were clasped, and everything that he had tried to forget was there between them. Jim covered their hands with his free one and smiled at him.

Spock could not help but nearly smile in return, and the despair of the last long minutes before now—lying here alone and knowing how much of a mistake that he had made—finally began to ebb.

Perhaps all was not lost.

* * *

When it was all over Jim went back to his quarters, tired, and now he could really sleep. Earth was safe.

But his quarters weren't empty. The door opened and Spock was in the main room, waiting for him. He'd been pacing, hands clasped behind him, and he turned to the door when Jim entered.

The admiral stopped just inside the door. It closed behind him and he stared.

For a while neither of them said anything. Jim hadn't had time to let himself hope after the scene in sickbay. Now his chest tightened, and not in a bad way.

The Vulcan was the first to speak. "The door…"

"The first chance I got, once you were aboard."

Jim had almost forgotten he'd reprogrammed it. It was a relatively simple thing to add someone to the security clearance, and he'd done it as soon as Spock was here. He'd done it before that first cold, painful conversation, out of what hope he'd had before then that meeting had crushed.

Spock had not had to use an override to get in here.

The Vulcan swallowed visibly.

"Spock…"

"I came to offer what meager apologies that I can give. I have hurt you. It was wrong of me to leave as I did."

"What happened, Spock?"

The Vulcan inclined his head a bit, and made a bit of a face. "I cannot answer that—not entirely—and I am sorry."

"I assume you did what you thought you had to do…"

Spock nodded slightly, and looked at the floor for a moment. "At its simplest, I feared what would happen, if I were continue in the emotional vein into which I had allowed my actions to fall. I did not wish to harm you, but in attempting to protect you I only caused more pain. I was foolish."

Jim found himself smiling, just a little. "Foolish for certain…but human, too. And that's not a bad thing."

"I did not understand that logic was not enough. There were still doubts. Not in you, or in us, but in the rightness of allowing a certain amount of emotion. I understand it, now. And myself. More than I did. I…expect nothing, but I hope that in time you can forgive me."

"Can you promise me you won't leave again? At least...not without letting me try to help you?"

Spock blinked, surprised by the intensity of the answer that was also a question. "What I feel for you has not changed. If you would have me I would not _wish_ to leave," he answered after a moment.

"Then I forgive you. You don't have to beg for that, Spock, or even wait for it. Nothing's changed for me, either." Jim let out an amused breath. "I tried to tell myself it had—it would have made the last two-and-a-half-years a hell of a lot easer if it had—but it hasn't."

He meant for that to be comforting, but Spock was frowning at the mention of the years they had been apart. "Jim, I'm sorry. I—"

To shut him up Jim went to him, and took the Vulcan's face in his hands and kissed him. Spock's arms went around him, and by the time Jim pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes he could scarcely breathe. The point of light in his mind that was the connection they shared was pulsing brightly. It almost blinded his mind's eyes with its light as it flared back to life from the ember that had sparked when he first saw Spock only days ago.

"You feel it?" Jim asked softly. Spock was holding him close now, as if trying to make up for the time they'd lost. The Vulcan nodded, and lips pressed to Jim's temple and then moved near his ear.

"T'hy'la," he whispered.

"Is that the word for it? You never exactly told me before…said I couldn't completely understand its meaning in Vulcan."

_You cannot…but it is what you are to me. _One of Spock's hands had come up to twine with Jim's that was still against his cheek, and the contact allowed his voice in Jim's mind. _I love you._

It wasn't until later that night, lying beside Spock in the darkness, that Jim got around to the math.

"Spock, you've got barely six months! Why didn't you say anything? You didn't achieve Kolinahr. If we hadn't worked this out what the hell were you going to do then?"

"It is unimportant, now," the Vulcan said from his pillow, and when he continued there was his own mild form of amusement in his voice. "It is apparent that you will have me."

"You're impossible, you know that?" Jim punctuated his complaint with an extra pillow smacked across Spock's face, and the Vulcan responded by pulling him closer and refusing to release him. "Fine," Jim grumbled. "But don't think you're getting away with bonding with me without marrying me. I'm an admiral, now, after all. I've got a reputation to uphold."

"Of course."

Jim couldn't see well in the dark as he settled in Spock's arms, but he could swear the Vulcan was smiling. At least some.


	10. Chapter 10

Hey ya'll. So sorry, I was having issues working this next part out in my head, and there was break long enough to go home and I wanted to spend it with my family all instead of writing and such, so. :) Anyway, i hope ya'll like the chapter. Can't wait to hear from ya'll. Please do let me know what you think if you're still around, lol. Thanks so much for the support!

Chapter 10

2274

The _Enterprise_'s second five-year mission under James T. Kirk launched from Vulcan rather than from Earth, so as to be present for the marriage of the ship's captain and first officer which took place several days before. After that, of course, the ship was left in orbit for several days, waiting for its executive officers to return. Sulu and Scotty were more than equipped to oversee the last of the preparations for launch, Jim and Spock were sure.

It was a bit surreal, Spock considered, this wedding. Of course, he did not really consider it until days later, looking back upon it, once the influence of the Pon Farr had released him.

He remembered the doctor smiling at them, happy for them and showing it. Spock remembered when he had firmly believed that it would be Leonard to whom he would bond when this time came. He was surprised when that thought no longer brought so much pain.

Perhaps he should not have been surprised. He was more than content now, with Jim. He loved Jim. If he were human he would have said that he was happy. When they returned to the _Enterprise_ and McCoy was waiting for them with that same mischievous grin on his face, Spock studied the doctor and felt only warmth. He was not certain when it had happened that the memories had ceased to be so sharp, and become something that he could look on in easier fondness.

It had happened. At some point, over time. And he was pleased that it had. In that moment of return, of realization that he _was_ content, his mother's lesson made more sense. Spock thought of the box in his quarters and its contents, and the drawer and what it contained, and he understood it all better than he ever had.

It occurred to him that in many ways he had Leonard McCoy to thank for all of that. He had McCoy to thank for many things, not the least of which was Jim.

* * *

2285

"Spock…for god's sakes _talk_ to me."

There had been a lot that happened in recent months that didn't seem real: Spock's death. Having back the memories the Vulcan had protected him from all of those years…and the fact that Jim now knew it all, too. Feeling like he was losing his mind…but that it was only because Spock's mind was locked away within it. The Vulcan's essence. His soul. Trapped in Leonard body.

"You stuck this damn thing in my head, remember? _Remember_? Now tell me what to do with it," McCoy pleaded.

Now this. Now a very much alive Spock lay on the diagnostic bed beside him—a mindless, empty husk, but alive. McCoy wanted nothing more than to talk to him; for those dark eyes to open and look at him in recognition. In understanding. He wanted Spock _back_, damnit. Really back. But all that was _really_ Spock was still inside _him_.

They were en route to Vulcan. Hopefully there—where they had at first thought only to return Spock's katra and body for proper internment—it would be possible to re-fuse the mind with the now-living body. The hope was that it was enough to return Spock to them whole.

Because the thing Leonard held—the essence within him—wasn't really Spock either, even though it was. It was everything the Vulcan had been, but without its own body it had no consciousness of its own. There was no communication. Leonard felt that he if concentrated hard enough he could know everything Spock had ever known; he knew he could. Sometimes he slipped into the Vulcan's attitudes and mannerisms without realizing anything had happened.

But Spock wasn't there, precisely. He was, but he wasn't. McCoy couldn't talk to him. He couldn't ask what the hell he was supposed to do now. According to Sarek he was just supposed to _know_, and he did—he knew they had to make it to Vulcan—but that was all.

"Help me…"

There was no answer. He hadn't expected one.

Leonard wasn't sure when he'd risen up practically on his toes, clutching the edge of the bed and leaning over its side as if that would make any difference. Now he sank back onto the cold metal stool he'd dragged there beside it.

Cold. Metal. There wasn't any other kind of anything here, on this stolen Klingon ship. Even the biobed was little more than a slab.

"This has to work, you know," he managed after a moment. His voice came out tired and weary and thin. "I've lost you twice. I don't…I don't think I could stand to lose you again."

McCoy let his head drop into his hands, his elbows resting on the side of the bed. He wanted to sleep but he couldn't.

"Maybe you can still hear me," he mussed. He looked at the still features before him, but he supposed he was talking to whatever exactly it was locked away inside him. "Or you'll remember when they put you back together."

He was already shaking his head long before he'd decided to keep talking. If he even really decided that.

"Damnit, Spock…what the hell is your problem? When we decided erasing it was the only thing we could do at the time I didn't think that'd fix it forever. Not when you couldn't change your own memories too. I knew it'd come out. I never thought you'd let it go this long.

"But that's you, isn't it? Trying to deal with everything yourself…you've always done it. Even when you finally figured out everything else, you never got over that one. You still have to protect everyone you can. It's not a _bad_ thing to want to do that, Spock, but you could use some improvement on your judgment."

There was even more of it than he'd known before, he knew now. Maybe he couldn't communicate with what of Spock was trapped in his mind, but he knew things.

He knew things like what had really happened on Sarpeidon. He knew that as their position in time had begun to affect the Vulcan's behavior Spock had held on to enough of himself, long enough to make a choice. Because of their past the primitive urges had pushed him toward the doctor, but McCoy no longer remembered what had happened between them by then. If Spock had given in to those urges it would have been disastrous for all of them—Spock, Leonard, and Jim if they ever returned. The memories might have returned. The new and still somewhat fragile intimate relationship between Jim and his first officer might have fractured.

But Spock had known he would lose himself. He could not stop it. Before he did he chose to push himself in another direction, to be certain he would not do what he absolutely could not do. He responded to Zarabeth's advances rather than advancing on McCoy, and when control was gone the passionate, primitive Vulcan he became continued in that vein. He succeeded.

McCoy hadn't understood then, all of the reasoning behind it. He took it as the primitive Vulcan mind overtaking Spock and left it at that. In any case, he told Jim nothing of Zarabeth. For his friends he kept that secret. It did not matter. Spock had not been himself.

So many things like that. It seemed Spock spent his life protecting those he cared about. He died doing it. That was what had brought them here, to this place. This moment.

"And me, I've spent fifteen years keeping you and Jim together…or helping you get there in the first place," Leonard sighed. "Not that I regret it. I don't. How could I? You're the closest friends I have; I was glad you were happy. I still am. That hasn't changed. I…it's just funny how things turn out sometimes."

Tentatively McCoy reached to take one of the still hands that lay at the Vulcan's side. He squeezed impulsively, wondering if Spock would ever really be with them again…hoping…wondering if the Vulcan would ever know anything he was saying now. When he spoke again, his voice dropped to a whisper for a moment.

"I would have married you, you know. If what happened hadn't…" He had to stop briefly. "When you asked me I only hesitated because of everything I went through with Jocelyn. You knew that. You didn't push the issue. It doesn't matter now, but I just…hope you know I would have done it."

He swallowed and sat back a bit, but he kept the hand he held. "But I guess I really do love you enough to just want you to be happy…guess I always did. Because I _don't_ regret anything. None of it. Who'd have thought it of me? Guess I'm not as selfish as I always thought I was…nice to know, I suppose."

A shuffling near the door alerted him that he and Spock were no longer alone, and Leonard looked up to find Jim in the open doorway. The admiral almost shrank back, somewhat sheepish, and without thinking about it McCoy raised an eyebrow in a decidedly Vulcan manner.

When he realized what he was doing he abruptly stopped and blinked, and shook his head at himself. "How long you been there?" he asked.

Jim came to the other side of the bed and pulled another stool with him. "Long enough," he admitted.

Leonard swallowed, and when Jim took Spock's other hand McCoy deliberately released the one he held himself. "If this works, I'm not going to get in the way. I wouldn't do that."

"I know you well enough to know that, Bones. The thought never crossed my mind." Jim studied him closely for a moment. "But are you all right?"

McCoy shrugged. "As all right as I'm going to be…except I'll probably be better without two brains in my head once we get there."

All was quiet for a while after that, until Jim spoke up again. "I always knew I had you to thank…for pestering some of his stubbornness out of him who knows how many times, if nothing else. Mine too, for that matter. You've always been there. But I never knew how much it really meant until now." Jim looked at him. "Even before you forgot, you were helping us. I can never thank you enough for that."

Leonard only shrugged again, because he didn't know how to respond to that. But he smiled a little, inwardly, because at least he knew—after all the time he'd spent second-guessing himself over all of this, then and now—that he'd done _something_ right.

* * *

Five-and-a-Half Years Ago

In 2279 the second five-year mission of the _Enterprise_ had concluded. The ship was relegated to the use of Command as a training vessel. The crew moved on to other assignments, but the senior staff continued to stay in touch as much as possible. Spock took a teaching position at the academy, and Jim settled in San Francisco once more—this time with his bondmate.

He had to admit he didn't mind going back to the desk job so much now that Spock was with him. Even Bones stayed in the city this time, at Starfleet Medical, and occasionally the doctor was also seen as a guest lecturer at Starfleet Academy's medical school. The three of them spent a good deal of time together, and Jim wouldn't have had it any other way.

This was what their lives could have been the years after the first mission, but to remember that was pointless. They had it now, and that was what mattered.

Sill, Jim wasn't happy with the desk job for very long. After a year or two of that again he decided he would rather retire than stay in Starfleet doing something he didn't want to be doing. Spock had no objections; both of them having such involved duties often kept them apart even living in the small apartment they shared. They hadn't had much more, either, the first five years. Running a ship had not been any less demanding of them the second time around than the first.

Jim retired, then, in 2281, and it gave them more time. It gave them the married life he supposed everyone wished for at one time or another. It was slower, and he didn't mind. He could tell Spock appreciated it, too.

It made Spock's third Pon Farr—their second together—less of a hurried affair than it had been the first time, after their marriage. There was no ship waiting for them. Spock took the term off from the academy. They retreated to Vulcan, to Spock's private quarters of his family estate as they had before, and they stayed much longer than the Fever really lasted.

All was well, until they were ready to leave. Spock had a private conversation with his father before they departed for Earth, and Jim knew immediately that it had affected him.

When they were home Spock told him what it had concerned, and Jim was a little startled, perhaps, but not surprised. Months later the new year had long since begun, but Sarek had not yet let the subject rest.

An evening in early March of 2282 Spock returned from his classes for the day. Jim was at the table in the kitchen with coffee and a book—something he'd never had much time for in Starfleet—but when Spock sat beside him he had no more interest in reading. He could see through the Vulcan façade even better now than he could years ago, and even without the uneasiness he felt through their bond he knew something was troubling his bondmate.

"Bad day of classes, or did Sarek send you another message?" Spock only raised that eyebrow at him, and he sighed. "That's what I thought."

The Vulcan released a small breath. "I am sorry, Jim. My father approves of you personally, and so he did not attempt to prevent our bonding, but I knew well that he would not allow the subject of children to rest indefinitely. I fear I did not sufficiently warn you of this."

"I think I'd figured that part out on my own by the time we got married, Spock; it's all right." Jim set his coffee cup down and crossed his arms. "You know, you don't have to keep fielding those interrogation sessions on your own." He tried smiling then, too, hoping to bring Spock's spirits up, and a corner of the Vulcan's mouth did quirk up briefly.

"I did not wish to subject you to my father's…directness."

"Sure. But Sarek has a point. There's never going to be a better time. I'm retired; you're at the academy. We both have the time. And you may be a Vulcan, but I'm not, and I'm not getting any younger. I'll be fifty next year. If we're going to do it at all, we should do it now."

"It is not something we had planned."

Jim shrugged. "Plans change. Maybe being a parent wasn't one of my life's goals to begin with, but then I never thought I'd be bonded to a Vulcan, either," he said gently.

And in truth, a parent he already was. Spock and Bones were the only people alive beyond Carol Marcus herself who knew it, too. Still, either way it wasn't the same as what they were discussing now. David didn't know he existed. Carol hadn't wanted him involved, and he'd never been involved.

What they were talking about here was a child that would be theirs. Spock's and his. There should be a way to do it, even if the way wasn't entirely clear yet. Sarek had been questioning them about their plans since before they left Vulcan, reminding them that at the very least it was Spock's duty to provide an heir; a continuation of his Vulcan family line. It was not required that Jim be a part of it at all, but Spock had many years ago made it clear that he refused to reproduce in any way that did not bring forth a child that was his _and_ his bondmate's.

Jim was touched by that, but as long as Spock's logic had at times irritated him there were times now he wished his husband would be _more_ logical. There were other, easier ways to satisfy Sarek's request. Adopting a child would not do because it would not be of Spock's lineage, but producing a child with a Vulcan female of his clan would, among other things. It wouldn't require anything but an exchange of biological samples.

Though Amanda had been able to carry him to term, Spock himself had been conceived that way. There wasn't any other way for it to happen, with his parents of different species. It took effort to bring him into existence at all. When Jim and Spock were both in Starfleet with no time for children, Sarek and Amanda had even offered many times to care for _any_ child of their son's, no matter how the child came to be.

Jim understood how important the family was to Vulcans. He knew it would seem a disaster to Sarek if his son's line did not continue. He knew that no matter how much Spock told him it did not matter, Spock would feel the same. For years Jim had told his bondmate to do whatever he needed to do.

Still, Spock had done nothing. He remained adamant that he would only wish to have a biological child if it could be _theirs_, and then only if he and Jim could raise the child themselves.

So it was an old stalemate that remained buried until now, with Jim retired and Spock teaching and raising a child suddenly possible.

Spock looked at him for a long time now. "I don't want anything to be done of that magnitude only out of a sense of responsibility. It would seem such if we were to do so now, only in response to my father's wishes."

"It wouldn't have to be that way. Like I said, Spock, maybe I didn't really plan from the beginning to do anything more than spend the rest of my life with you…but if there's anyone I'd want to raise a child with it would _be_ you. Maybe that sounds a little contrived, but that doesn't make it any less true." Jim smiled again and took his bondmate's hand on the table. "We love each other. Throw that in with the fact that we're pretty damn good at running a starship together, and I think we could pull off parenting."

Spock squeezed his hand, but the conversation stopped there for the time being. It didn't pick up again until the next night, in bed before sleep came.

"It will not be easy," Spock said into the dimness. "I will need to go to Vulcan, to the Science Academy where I was conceived and the techniques to do so were developed. Combining the DNA of two males is possible, as is combining basic human and Vulcan DNA, but both are problematic. Addressing both issues at once has never been attempted. It does not help, either, that I am already a hybrid. All of this will make it more difficult."

"You should ask Bones if he'd help. He probably knows more about _our _genes, than anyone. I think he's getting a little bored at Starfleet Medical anyway. He'd probably appreciate something different to do for a while."

"I have considered that. I will speak with him tomorrow." Spock paused. "If you are certain that this is what we should do."

Jim just smiled. "When do we leave?"

"As soon as I can arrange for the leave to do so. However, you do not need to accompany me as long I have the needed samples from you. It may take a good amount of time, and there would be little for you to do. You _are_ extremely intelligent in your own right, Jim, but you are not skilled in the biological or medical sciences."

"So you're saying I'd just get in the way?" Jim chuckled good-naturedly.

"I did not say that."

"Are you sure? I don't mind. Wouldn't want you to get lonely."

"I would be staying at home with my parents, and if the doctor agrees to assist he will also be there. I will not lack company."

"No, but you'd miss me."

More than seven years of marriage, and Jim still didn't know if Spock really used the dimness of their bedroom at night to roll his eyes or perhaps smile a little more than usual. He was relatively certain his bondmate _wanted_ to, at the least, but he could never be quite sure. If Spock were doing anything now, though, it would be rolling his eyes.

"Yes, Jim. I will miss you," the Vulcan sighed, almost in amusement. "However, I know that Vulcan has never held great interest for you."

The only thing of interest to Jim regarding Vulcan was Spock, and if Spock was going to be busy there much of the time, he was right. There was no reason for Jim to go. He wanted to, to be there for support, but he wouldn't be really needed. And he really might get in the way, if he became too bored. He did like quiet and reading at times, but weeks and weeks of it would wear on him. There wouldn't be anywhere to escape to. Vulcan was too hot for humans to simply roam about when they wanted. Here on Earth, at least, there were places he could go if he were restless.

Jim sighed too, finally. "All right…you're right. I'd go out of my mind sitting around in that estate without you. I'll stay on Earth. Maybe I'll go out to my uncle's place…haven't been there in a while. The horses probably miss me."

Jim's mother still lived at home in Iowa. His uncle's place in Idaho that had been left to him was where he and Spock went to be alone. It was only the horses and the two or three hands that kept the place up and cared for the animals there. When they went, they gave those men the time off.

"But call me if you need me, understand?" Jim stressed. "I'm here. Call me. I'll be there as soon as I can if you ask me to be."

Spock nodded, and Jim settled back down against him. Something in his stomach fluttered. "My god, we might really be parents a year from now."

Maybe it wasn't something he'd really considered often, but he was coming to the age where he regretted never being involved in David's life. Suddenly the idea of raising a child that was his and Spock's was more attractive than it had ever been.

It occurred to him that maybe this was what they needed. They both appreciated the quieter times the last year or two had brought them, but a child would bring more meaning to it all. Retirement, though nice, was beginning to seem pointless. Jim needed a purpose again, and he couldn't think of a better one.

This time, when he said what he said, he knew Spock was smiling just a bit because the Vulcan held him close and Jim felt it against his hair.

* * *

When Jim and Spock came to ask him if he would help Spock with their endeavor, McCoy agreed wholeheartedly. He _was_ feeling a little bored and underused at Starfleet Medical.

He wasn't running the place or anything; not that he wasn't qualified, he just didn't want to. They'd offered him that job, and he'd turned it down. It wasn't to his taste, really. Too much like the Starfleet Operations position Jim had hated. More paper-pushing than anything. So he did the rounds. He doctored and that was what he wanted to do, but he also wanted more of a challenge. What he really wanted, if he was honest with himself, was to be in space again.

He just couldn't say that. Leonard told too many people he was nothing but an old country doctor to admit the country doctor would rather be on a starship.

Going to Vulcan with Spock was much better than nothing, and the fact that he would be helping his closest friend with something that was important to them only made it more worth doing. So he went.

He was also more than a little looking forward to seeing Jim and Spock deal with a baby.

"Are you kidding? Wouldn't miss that for the world," he grinned. Jim glared at him. Spock merely raised an eyebrow.

He knew it would be a challenge, even working with members of the team at the Vulcan Science Academy that had achieved Spock's conception. He knew it would take time.

He didn't expect their efforts to come to nothing at all.

Spock didn't ask him to do it, but Leonard was with him when he informed Sarek of their failure. Four months, and nothing. It had taken longer originally, McCoy was told, to create the embryo that had grown to be Spock. But the problems they had run into already had proven to be impossible to remedy.

Due to McCoy's stubborn insistence alone they had already worked weeks longer than the Vulcans had thought logical. Spock, though he would never admit it aloud, seemed glad that the doctor had insisted they continue to try as long as they had. But it was impossible.

"There is nothing that can be done?" Sarek asked.

"There are too many inconsistencies," McCoy continued to explain. Spock had fallen silent minutes ago. "The greater disparity between the DNA—Spock already being a hybrid—is part of it, but there's more to it. Just too many complications. The results we're getting are too muddled to tell where the problems are coming from, no matter how many times we run the tests. Some of them we _have_ managed to pinpoint, but a lot of them we haven't and probably never would. It doesn't really matter what side it's on anyway. Jim and Spock both have spent so much time in space _anything_ that's happened to them could be preventing us from successfully combining their patterns."

"I see…"

"I will not consider any other option," Spock said suddenly.

Both of them looked at him.

"I know this, my son," Sarek said.

"I understand that to bring about an heir it is acceptable for a Vulcan to seek a solution outside of a pair-bonding if it is impossible within it. I agree that it is, perhaps, quite logical. I also agree with the fact that it is the only instance in which such a thing is in any way acceptable. However…while I agree that it is logical, I do not…believe it right. I will not."

"Did you believe that I would force your hand?"

That seemed to bring Spock up short, and McCoy felt as if he were watching a tennis match and holding his breath all at once.

"You have stressed the need for a continuation of our house much in recent months," the younger of the two Vulcans answered slowly. "It seemed reasonable to believe that you would see it accomplished."

"I wished to see it accomplished if it could be accomplished in the only way which you would accept. In truth, it was the only method which I would have freely accepted as well. My insistence was only to bring about the end of your hesitation. As I have said, my son, I understand what it is you say. You seem to forget that I also married a human."

Was he imagining things, Leonard wondered, or did the corner of Sarek's mouth quirk up just the tiniest amount?

"As such, my…values, have also adapted themselves," the ambassador concluded.

Translation: Humans rubbed off on you. Vulcans were fiercely loyal unless logic dictated otherwise. Humans, on the other hand…loyalty didn't have to be logical, and it seemed Sarek was saying he had long since realized that in the case of marriage, that could be a good thing. Emotion had its uses.

Not that either Vulcan would actually put any of it in those words.

Spock blinked. Maybe he swallowed, but in the room that was somewhat dimmed with the evening, McCoy wasn't sure.

"I thank you for your understanding, Father."

Sarek nodded in answer, and there was silence for a minute or two before Spock took his leave and Leonard followed him from the ambassador's study.

McCoy imagined that was probably the most emotional moment father and son had ever shared, unless the day Spock had left for Starfleet had been more charged. At least this time it was mutual understanding and not mutual anger. That was definitely an improvement over where they'd been twenty or thirty years ago.

Leonard was glad he'd been there to see it.

* * *

Spock found himself on a balcony off the main rooms of the house. He knew McCoy had followed him, but wasn't certain how long he stared out at the desert before the doctor said something.

"I'm so sorry, Spock."

"You did everything within your power, Doctor. Indeed, you were much more determined to solve the problem than any others who assisted us."

"I'm just human, is all. Doesn't really mean anything special."

"It does," Spock answered. "You are my friend. You acted in the way you did because you care for me, and for Jim. I am grateful for that."

The doctor looked sheepish then. "Well, I mean…yeah. You're welcome."

It was McCoy who spoke again, after the silence had lingered once more. "I just wish we could have made it work. I…think this meant a lot to you, didn't it?"

The heaviness within him gave him his answer. Even after so many years he still could not lie to the doctor, and he was too fatigued to be evasive in his usual Vulcan manner.

"Perhaps even more than I understood," Spock agreed quietly.

He had always known he would have a duty. He had always known the importance of family to the Vulcan culture, and felt it himself. Agreed with that importance to his core. But there was more to his disappointment now. It was not mere disappointment. It was pain.

He had wanted this. The sorrow he felt was almost as if there had been a child that was now dead—not merely that there had never been one. It was all entirely disproportionate, and illogical.

"Let's go home, Spock," Leonard urged him gently. "You should be with Jim right now."

Spock very nearly winced, because with that statement came the realization there was already feedback along his bond with his husband. Jim knew that something was wrong. He felt it.

"I must tell him what has been determined, but I cannot leave Vulcan as of yet," he said. "There are things which must be seen to now that it is clear that Jim and I will never have a child."

"What are you talking about?"

"Arrangements. For after my mother and father's deaths, and mine and Jim's. If no one will follow other arrangements must be made. There are procedures."

"Spock, you and Sarek have plenty of time to work that out—to do whatever has to be done officially. You have years to do that. Decades, for god's sakes. You should be at home now."

"It is not logical to put off what can be done now."

He heard himself retreating to logic, and much of him did not agree on this particular point but he could not stop it.

Perhaps it was an excuse, as humans called it. Because much of him also did not wish to return to Jim in the state in which he now found himself. Perhaps the strength of the sorrow he felt was not logical, but it was there. He would be nothing but a burden now, and he did not wish to be that.

"That's ridiculous. Go home," McCoy said again.

"I shall, as soon as I have seen to what must be done. If you wish to return to Earth ahead of me you are more than welcome to do so."

"Spock—"

"Thank you, Doctor. Good night."

"Why you thick-headed, pointed-eared—!"

McCoy cut off, spun, and stalked away, but Spock had no doubt that he would be back before he left if he chose to leave.

* * *

Jim felt it before he heard anything. He was in the process of a dismount when it hit him, and he ended up on his ass at the horse's feet.

The anxiety had built steadily in recent weeks, fueled by the undercurrents of emotion he felt from his bondmate even light-years away. Now he knew the answer whether he wanted to know it or not.

The message came hours later—not a communication, not a call, just a recorded message. Spock looked awful on the recording. Oh he was as perfectly groomed as always, but Jim knew the difference between fine and not-fine when he was looking at his bondmate. And Spock was not fine.

Spock told him what had happened. That the problems with the combination had finally been determined as insurmountable. Sarek understood, he said, and Jim was glad of that but he wished there was more to the message. After the facts all Spock told him was that he would be a few weeks longer on Vulcan; something about arrangements to be made, and not to be concerned.

Jim was concerned anyway. Nothing but a message, and it was all far too similar to what had happened after the first five-year mission for comfort. It worried him. It was a pit in his stomach that ached, and the news itself didn't help.

He'd been happy. Excited. As the weeks and months went by and he thought the time was bringing them closer to being parents he'd wanted it more than ever. In the early weeks Spock would really call, rather than send messages. There had been a light in the Vulcan's eyes even though he said that they should not discuss it too much. They should not plan too much, because they did not know what the outcome would be. Jim played along. The pictures in his mind he saved for the day they had the good news.

Now there was nothing. It would never happen, and he was more crushed than he'd thought he would be, and he wanted Spock home. Bones wasn't even here. No one was planetside just now. Not Scotty, or Uhura, or Sulu or Chekov or anyone.

He keyed a message into the computer anyway, before he really knew what he was doing. He didn't want to be alone, and there was one person, at least, that he knew he could call.

He'd met Antonia the first week here, months ago. He'd been out riding, jumping the small gorge at the back of his uncle's property when he saw her on her own horse. She was a veterinarian with her own practice nearby. She specialized in horses and had the same sort of thirst for adventure that had always driven Jim. For the most part, she understood him.

They'd become friends. She'd never wanted children and couldn't understand his anxiousness to hear from Spock, but she'd been an ear even so. She cared.

Without Spock or Bones here, Jim needed a friend now. That was all.


	11. Chapter 11

Okay, nobody kill me yet. Read the whole thing. You'll see. And definitely please do review been freaking out about this chapter myself for a while, lol. Thanks so much ya'll!

Chapter 11

2282 continued

It wasn't until evening that she was able to come, but when she could she came. Jim almost wasn't aware she was there until the scent of coffee broke him from his stupor. He started, and he realized he'd scarcely moved from his place at the desk for most of the day.

A thin hand set a steaming mug of the coffee he smelled on the desk top in front of him, and then a face framed by auburn hair drifted before his eyes. Antonia, crouching in front of him by his chair.

"Jim. Jim, come back. What happened?"

Her hands closed on his arms and shook a little. She sounded worried. She cared enough to worry. He swallowed, and blinked to clear his eyes. They felt stuck, after staring at nothing for too long.

"Jim?"

He cleared his throat and pulled in a slow breath. He finally focused on her.

"Spock…word from Vulcan. He uhm…there's nothing they can do. It's not going to happen."

"I'm sorry…" She straightened up, and took the coffee from the desk to press it into his hands herself. "Drink this. You look like you need it."

"I probably do, don't I? I'm sorry to bother you."

"You're not bothering me." She stood over him until he started to sip at the coffee, and touched his arm. "I'll be right back," she said gently.

Jim only nodded wordlessly; he was still too muddled to think to ask where she was going. She disappeared for a while, and he drank the coffee and tried to kick his mind back into gear. He wasn't certain he wanted to do that, but as a starship captain he'd learned long ago that shutting down was simply not an option.

When Antonia returned the coffee was gone. There was more in the kitchen—he could smell it—but he hadn't quite gotten the nerve to get up on his own to go for more yet. Then that point was moot when she held out a hand.

"Come on. Horses are saddled. I don't know any better medicine than a ride and a sunset."

He just looked at the hand for a moment or two, but then he put the coffee mug down and he took it.

* * *

Leonard kept to himself until the next day, frustrated and uncertain what to do. He arranged transport back to Earth, hoping Spock would come with him but knowing the stubborn Vulcan probably wouldn't.

He wished he could be in two places at once. Jim would need someone just now, and if Spock wasn't going to return immediately then McCoy should. But Spock needed him too. Still, here Spock had his family. With everyone else on assignment Jim had no one back home.

The decision was made.

McCoy found Spock in conference with his father. He had to politely interrupt them to pull his friend out into the corridor, and he was grateful then that Vulcans didn't know how to look outwardly annoyed.

"Sorry. I just thought you might want to know I'm leaving in a few hours."

"I am aware of that, Doctor. My mother informed me after you conveyed to her that you would be departing this evening." He was stiff, formal. Since last night he'd shuttered himself off—from McCoy, from the pain, from everything. Just because Leonard was used to seeing Spock do it after knowing him all these years didn't mean he liked it.

"You need to come with me, Spock."

"Arrangements have not been made for me."

"Yes they have. I called in for two. There's a place for you if you'll just _come_, damnit."

The Vulcan released a breath that sounded suspiciously like a sigh, and the stony façade cracked for a moment. "I…cannot." The answer was vague. For some reason Leonard thought it meant something more than the fact that there were things he and Sarek had to do now.

For just a moment there was something on Spock's face—pain, and the Vulcan rubbed at a temple.

"Spock?"

"I have explained why I must remain for a time, Doctor," Spock answered, attempting to regain his composure.

McCoy blinked at him. "What's wrong with you?"

"There is nothing. I am well. Merely fatigued, perhaps."

"You're not 'well' and neither is Jim. You know it too, don't you? You can tell. He needs you, Spock, and you need him. You can take care of the red tape later. Let's go," Leonard pleaded.

But Spock wasn't listening to him now. His eyes were distant, and then abruptly they clenched shut and he pulled in a breath as if to steady himself from some sort of pain or shock. Pain. Just like a minute ago, but worse now, maybe? It was quiet, but McCoy was a mere few inches from him.

"Spock, _what's wrong_?" He reached out to hold a shoulder, and felt a nearly imperceptible tremor shake through his friend's body.

The Vulcan blinked and shook his head once, clearing any confusion away in an instant along with any traces of any other emotion.

"It is nothing; I will rest before my father and I continue in our duties. Don't be concerned. I will not be returning with you at this time, Doctor. I wish you a safe and uneventful journey."

With that Spock pulled subtly but firmly away from him, moved past him down the corridor, and disappeared around the corner toward the stairs.

McCoy stared after him for a moment, open-mouthed. In another moment the study door opened and Sarek stepped out.

"My son?"

McCoy cleared his throat. "He uh…I'm sorry for pulling him away from you. I came to tell him I was leaving. Then he said he needed to rest. I think he went upstairs."

Sarek nodded slowly. "I see. Perhaps it is well that he rests. His mother and I suggested that he do so, but this morning he insisted that he did not wish to, as you say, 'waste time.' This was logical, of course, but it seems the decision was premature. Both of you have worked tirelessly in recent weeks."

"Right…"

Leonard thought for a moment, and then decided to speak again. "Sarek, you're his father. You may be Vulcan, but I know you care about him in whatever way you do that. Take care of him. Don't let him do anything stupid."

The older Vulcan looked at him passively. "I do not understand."

"If he tries to, you will."

McCoy tried to call Jim before he left Vulcan, but there was no answer. He left a message, but he had a bad feeling about all of it.

* * *

Spock retreated to his room, able to admit at least to himself that he found comfort there. His childhood memories were not all negative, after all. Not all painful and strained. It had offered him refuge when he left the _Enterprise_, before Gol. It offered him that same refuge now.

His stomach churned and his heart clenched tightly in his side; his bond with Jim ached, and the rest of him with it.

He felt his bondmate's emotions, as he always could. They echoed his own—his own pain and regret, though somewhat different. He wanted nothing more than to soothe it away, but how could he when his own turmoil was yet greater? How could he offer Jim refuge in their bond when he could not control his own sorrow?

So he had determined to remain here, to see to his duties and to take the time to bring himself under control before returning. It would be better for them both this way. McCoy was not wrong…and Spock wanted desperately to be with his bondmate now…but…

Leonard wanted them to be together now, to take comfort in each other. He did not understand what it might do to Jim now if Spock went to him. He did not know the danger. Spock could not tell McCoy the truth of the matter, either, even as close a friend as he was. It was an internal matter, not spoken about any more than the Pon Farr. It was to be kept private if at all possible.

Vulcan emotions, when truly felt, were deeper, stronger, and more violent than those of humans. Jim was not a Vulcan spouse. While he was brilliant and dedicated, his mind could not be as strong or protected as a Vulcan's even with a Vulcan bondmate. If he _were_ Vulcan Spock would go to him now, and to share the pain to bring about it's lessening for them both would be what was expected. Days of melding, of withdrawing from the world and being together…of burying the emotion within each other…this was the way Vulcans dealt with deep trauma. Not by outward emotional displays.

But Jim was human. If he went to Jim now, hurt this deeply, it could be more harmful than anything else. It was a process more mentally strenuous, even, then the time of mating, to lock away things so powerful as Vulcan emotions. He could explain all of this to his bondmate when they met again—that it was safer for them to be apart now, and why—but he could not go to Jim now. Spock would not see him harmed any further than the news of failure had already hurt him.

And he was hurting Jim now. He felt the waves of growing pain from his bondmate, reflections of his own, and Spock knew that Jim sensing his was only increasing the human's distress. Physical distance helped, but it was not enough. Mental shielding was needed to dampen the bond for now, to prevent any harm from looping feedback. He had waited from yesterday, hoping it could go without that extra measure, but it was clear now that it must be done.

If he did not do it he would lose control soon. He could overwhelm Jim's mind even from here. The force of such a thing could easily destroy the mind of his human bondmate forever.

McCoy would be on Earth soon. Jim would not be truly alone.

_I am sorry, Jim. I love you. Please know that. I cannot explain now. I'm sorry._

At the edge of his limits, he could say no more. To protect Jim, he ignored the mental protests and put up the walls.

* * *

"NO! Spock!"

Jim sat up in bed, gasping. It was late morning but he hadn't had the strength to drag himself up yet. The ride last night had helped some, but not for long. He still laid awake most of the night after that, feeling along the bond, trying to soothe the hurt he felt through the link. But it only grew worse, and he wasn't strong enough to help. He was human, and the distance between Earth and Vulcan did not help.

_Why don't you just come home?_

What he felt from Spock tied his gut in knots, and he knew this had affected his bondmate so much more than that recorded message could ever begin to show.

And then the soft voice in his mind, pained but gentle. _I am sorry, Jim. I love you. Please know that. I cannot explain now. I'm sorry._

_ Spock, what are you doing? Don't—!_

But the bond shut down. Jim didn't know if Spock had heard him at all. The bond was there, but blocked. He felt nothing but the cold comfort of assurance that Spock was still his. They were still one, but that meant little with no communication between them now.

Jim couldn't breathe. He remembered shouting, but he couldn't remember how long ago it was. There were heavy footsteps in the hall and he remembered, vaguely, that it was a weekend. Antonia had promised to return in the morning to check on him. It mustn't have been long since he shouted. She must have arrived just now. She must have heard.

"Jim! Where are you?"

She found the bedroom. The door was flung open, and Jim didn't realize until he tried to look at her that his eyes had filled with moisture.

"Jim?"

"He shut me out," he gasped. "He shut me out." Antonia came to the bedside to sit on the edge and pull him into her arms. Jim buried his face in her shoulder and held on. "He shut me out…"

* * *

It took several days to get back to Earth by civilian transport. When he arrived McCoy stopped by his apartment in San Francisco to drop off his luggage and then wasted no time in transporting out to Idaho. This was no time to be worrying about his problems with transporters. He took a rented aircar from the town closest to Jim's uncle's property out to the ranch, but found two other cars parked there rather than one.

There was no answer at the door, but it wasn't locked. Uneasy already, Leonard went in anyway. He didn't have to go far. Jim was passed out on the couch in the main room.

The problem was that he wasn't alone.

The large couch was just wide enough for the two people stretched out on it, asleep against each other and the arm of the couch—Jim, and an auburn-haired woman McCoy didn't recognize. They seemed to be fully clothed under the throw blanket that covered them, but that didn't necessarily mean anything.

_Oh my God, Jim, what have you done?_

His voice stuck in his throat. He stood frozen in the entryway, silent, but Jim was waking up anyway. Maybe he'd heard the door. McCoy panicked briefly, wondering if he should leave again before he was seen…but that wasn't really his personality. He couldn't yet speak, but he stayed put and braced himself.

The admiral shifted again, and his eyes finally flickered open as he began to sit up behind the other sleeping body on the couch. It wasn't until he'd stretched and cleared his vision that he realized anyone else was there. He froze.

"Bones?" Quickly he began to climb off the couch over the woman. "God, Bones, don't you know how to ring a doorbell? Damnit. Look, this isn't—"

"What it looks like?" McCoy practically growled. "Oh really?"

"She's a friend," Jim insisted. His voice was still low, as if trying to keep from waking her.

Leonard didn't care. "Pretty damn friendly," he retorted.

"Bones, I'm serious," he said, glancing down pointedly at his perfectly intact clothing. They were rumpled from sleep, but they were intact. The red and black plaid shirt was even tucked in.

McCoy wavered briefly, long enough for Jim to grab the doctor's arm and pull him into the kitchen.

"Bones?"

He didn't think Jim would lie about such a thing, but the anger was not gone. Just because it wasn't as bad as he'd feared—thank god—didn't mean it wasn't bad. "What the hell are you doing, Jim! So you're not exactly sleeping with her. You think that makes it right?"

"She's just a friend," Jim insisted again. "She's _been here_ for me. You and Spock weren't, were you?"

"We were on Vulcan! I came as soon as I could."

"I got that message too. It doesn't change the fact I had no one else until someone made it back. What did you expect me to do; sit here alone and wallow?"

"Having friends is one thing. It's another to forget your boundaries. You're _married_, Jim!"

"This is none of your business, you know. I haven't done anything wrong," Jim answered stiffly.

"Really? You think Spock would agree with that assessment?"

The admiral glared at him fiercely, and Leonard wasn't used to seeing such anger from him, but he knew pain probably had something to do with it. That was more than confirmed by what Jim said next.

"I don't know if Spock would care," he spat out bitterly.

"How can you say that?"

"He shut me out, Bones! He's gone," Jim said, fingers pressing to a temple briefly. "He's been gone for days."

There was silence then, pained on Jim's part and stunned on McCoy's. The doctor stared at him. "What are you talking about? What do you mean gone? I didn't think the bond could be b—"

"The bond's still there," Jim said miserably. "He's just…cut off all contact through it. No feedback. No nothing. It's there, but it's…blocked right now. Like a jammed signal. I don't know…"

"Why would he do that…?"

McCoy was growing more confused by the minute.

"I don't know! I thought I got the sense he was…trying to protect me from something. He said he was sorry before he did it. But I don't know."

"Then why didn't you get off your ass and get to Vulcan? Whatever the hell it is, you know it's some variation of one of his blasted protect-the-humans kicks. He's being stubborn again. Go knock some damn sense into him."

Jim shook his head. "No."

"No?" McCoy questioned incredulously.

"When he does something he has a reason for it. He has to do what he has to do. He didn't have to shut me out to do it, but…whatever."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"He said there were other arrangements to be made, and that's _all_ he said. I'm not stupid, Bones."

It took several long seconds for Leonard to realize what Jim thought. "What? No, Jim. That's not—he said he would never do that. _Anything_ like that. I was there; I _know_ that's not what he meant."

"You don't have to lie to me; I know how important this stuff is to Vulcans. Like I said, he has to do what he has to do. I've always told him not to worry if he had to. It's fine. And if he wants to keep me out of it for my own good, fine. I'd rather he hadn't done it this way—I'd rather be with him, at least through the bond—but that's his prerogative." He said everything was fine, but the look in his eyes said otherwise. Jim was not at all fine.

"Jim, the only arrangements Spock and Sarek are making are legal ones. I spoke to Sarek, too. I know what I'm talking about."

"Do you really think they'd talk about it? They didn't really want to have to do it that way, either. And it doesn't matter. It's fine."

"No, it's not. Stop being an ass, Jim. Spock loves you. He said he'd never have a child with anyone but you, and he meant it."

Jim's eyes closed, and his head dropped a little. "But he has to."

"No he doesn't. I was there when we told Sarek. Spock made it clear _again_ he wouldn't do it any other way without anybody asking anything about it, and Sarek told him it was all right."

Jim swallowed hard, and his voice came out a pained whisper. "Then why isn't he here? What he says he's doing…he can do that any time. He should be here." It wasn't clear which 'here' he was talking about. He'd pressed a hand to his head again, and he could have been talking about either 'here' or both.

Leonard made a face. "I don't know."

Without looking at him Jim trudged to a chair at the kitchen table and dropped into it. "Bones…listen, thanks for coming out here, but could you please just go? I don't want to talk about this anymore." His voice sounded hollow now.

"Jim—"

"If he's coming back he'll come back when he damn well pleases. There's no point in my going anywhere."

"Jim, stop it. Don't talk like that—"

"Go on. And don't bother Antonia, either."

McCoy glared again. He glared for a good long while. He understood now that what he was seeing here was pain and insecurity and stubbornness, and he hurt for Jim but he also thought he should know better. Finally he turned to go, at least for now, but he stopped short of the door and looked back.

"Jim, Spock is my friend too," he said, no-nonsense. "And damnit, if you _hurt _him I'll never forgive you. He's hurting enough over all of this, and it doesn't help that he's just as stubborn as you are."

He felt almost as if he'd made some variation of this speech before, but he couldn't remember. It seemed to him that whatever eluded him was an exchange even more heated, but when he tried to follow the impression it all slipped away.

* * *

Bones didn't understand. He didn't know what it was like to have the connection of years suddenly clogged by silence. To be uncertain. Sure the pain and confusion and other things he'd felt through the bond before it was blocked had been worse in ways, more powerful, but he hated the silence.

Maybe Spock was protecting him, but he didn't want to be protected. From whatever it was. Maybe Bones knew what he was saying and nothing was happening on Vulcan he wouldn't really want to know about…

But that didn't make it much better.

Bones didn't understand that. He didn't know how much of a struggle it had been in the last few days just to keep himself together from worrying. From imagining what could be happening to Spock. From being alone. If he'd been truly alone…if Antonia hadn't been here…he didn't know what he would have done.

When Bones was gone he pushed back to his feet and went back to the couch. Amazingly, Antonia was still asleep. Or only just beginning to wake, at least. He sat on the edge of the cushions at her feet and was staring into nothing again when she came to.

"Jim?" She sat up and hugged him. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing…"

It wasn't true. It had been painful enough to think that Spock might be making other arrangements for an heir on Vulcan now, no matter what Jim had said in the past about understanding. But he _did_ understand, even if he didn't really like it, so he hadn't done anything.

Now…

Why wasn't Spock here? Much of him knew it was ridiculous to worry so, but a small voice really was trying to tell him that maybe Spock wasn't coming back at all. It had been a stray thought before, but with one answer out of the way, there was more room for him to worry about the others. Was it one strain too much? What if Spock retreated to Gol again? What if he never came back this time? What if blocking the link between them was only a prelude to breaking it entirely?

And if he was worried about that, why _wasn't_ he on a transport to Vulcan right now?

"It's not nothing."

Antonia's voice cut through the gloom, and Jim pulled in an uneven breath. "No…not nothing," he admitted.

"What, then?"

It took him a while before he could put it in words. "What if this is it?" he managed finally. "Before Spock cut me off…I know how much he was hurt. He wanted this so much more than I ever did, and neither of us really knew it until now. Neither of us were prepared for this."

He scrubbed at his face. "God…I felt it before he shut me out…how much this was tearing him apart. And I didn't go to him. I was worried about myself. It hurt, and I was…angry with him for doing it. Shutting me out. I should've gone. What if he can't handle this and I've just screwed any chance I had of getting him back?"

"Then you should go."

"What would be the point now? Wouldn't mean much, would it?"

"Jim, I've known you for four months and you've never shut up about him. If that Vulcan loves you as much as you love him, you have nothing to worry about." She pulled his face around to make him look at her. "And if I'm wrong, then you won't be alone, because I don't think I'd go anywhere."

His mouth opened in surprise, because he thought he knew what she meant but he didn't want to process it. He didn't have the chance to try before she was kissing him gently.

It seemed it was meant to be more friendly than anything, at least for now. But it turned into more than that.

He knew immediately that it was wrong. He was pulling away when something hit him like a sledgehammer. Jim was on his feet and staggering away from the couch before he knew why.

"Jim!"

_Bones was right._

He realized it was the block in the bond, wavering. Flashes of agony.

Spock knew.

"Spock!" The walls were going back up as quickly as they had flickered away. _No no no…! Spock, I wouldn't—Spock!_

But all was silence again.

* * *

Leonard was seriously considering going back to Vulcan himself when his main computer console chimed.

The text-only message, from Jim, only contained the departure time of a transport back to Vulcan and two other words. _Thanks, Bones_.

McCoy sat back and sighed.

* * *

He knew he was in trouble when Spock's mother answered the door and regarded him coldly. The Lady Amanda was not one quick to anger, but she was clearly angry now.

"I'm sorry. I know I should have come sooner. Where is he? Is he all right?"

"Four days ago Spock collapsed during dinner. He regained his feet quickly enough, but he hasn't come out of his chambers since." She did let him in, though, and Jim swallowed.

"Amanda…I don't know what to—"

"Don't talk to me. Talk to my son." She motioned sternly toward the main staircase, but her expression softened ever so slightly.

Jim nodded his thanks and hurried upstairs.

He was stopped when he almost walked into the main door to Spock's rooms.

"What…?"

These doors had been programmed to allow him entry years ago. Either that had been changed, or there was an emergency lock order in place to keep them from opening to anyone. Either way, it hurt.

_My fault._

He punched the intercom. "Spock, it's me. It's Jim."

Nothing.

"Spock, please…"

Nothing again. Jim knocked his forehead against the wall in front of him once or twice and then left it there. It was already harder to breathe, being on Vulcan anyway, and now it was worse. It was a physical ache by now, for the blocked bond to be still so strained.

He didn't ask again, or he hadn't yet, but after another few minutes the door opened of its own accord. There was no one directly on the other side, and Jim wondered inside warily. When the door closed behind him he realized how dim it was inside.

Flickering candlelight and the smell of Vulcan incense led him to the small alcove off the bedroom where Spock meditated when here at home. The Vulcan was there, dressed in a black meditation robe and kneeling on the mat.

He'd paused, when he came around the corner to first see Spock. It was when he tried to take another step that his husband spoke.

"Please do not come near me."

Jim stopped dead. The wording was polite, as any good Vulcan would be, but the tone…while it tried to be aloof, it came out slightly menacing. There was pain beneath its surface.

"Why are you here?" Spock questioned coldly.

Jim was blinking back tears already. Damn them. "I'm here because I love you." The figure on the mat flinched visibly, but there was no other answer. Jim chose to ignore the first request and closed the distance between them. "Spock…"

He reached to rest a hand on his bondmate's shoulder, but he'd barely brushed the thick black fabric before Spock was on his feet, spinning, and catching his wrist in a crushing grip.

"I gave up _everything_ for you!"

Jim cried out, though it wasn't so much any physical discomfort as shock at the completely uncharacteristic anger. _What is he saying!_ The words themselves shook him too, but there was no time to wonder.

"Spock, listen to me! I deserve your anger. God, I know I do, but not for as much as you think. I didn't do what you think I did!" He tried to pull the hand on his wrist toward his face, or to catch the other one. "Join my mind. I can show you. You'll know it's true. Please…"

The Vulcan had already released him. Spock was pulling away, shoulders slumped; he seemed to regret his outburst already, but neither was he responding to Jim's request. Jim tugged at his bondmate's hands, trying to bring him back.

"Spock, meld with me. Let me show you. You have to understand."

"I cannot. My mind is…not ordered."

"Mine's less ordered. We can be unordered together. Damnit, Spock, I came 16 lightyears. The least you can do is come two feet and _listen to me_."

"I could harm you." His breath was harsh, as if he were still fighting away the emotion that had gripped him. Jim wouldn't blame him for that. The last two weeks had been hell for them both.

"I don't care. I need you to know what happened. I need you to understand. I need you _back_—" Jim's voice broke.

A kiss had gotten him into the deepest of this mess, and it was a kiss that was the first step in dragging them both out. It wasn't the first time it had worked, was the thought before he did it. It worked fifteen years ago.

He grabbed Spock's face and kissed him. The Vulcan pulled him off, but Jim refused to release the hand he caught, and pressed it to his face.

"Jim—"

But the bond was reacting to the physical contact. The walls were crumbling, and the meld was beginning almost of its own accord. Jim felt it the moment Spock gave in.

They came together, truly one for the first time in far too long. They understood each other's pain. Jim understood what Spock had been trying to do. Spock understood what it had done to Jim and the comfort he'd sought in a friend.

_I DID let it go too far, but not THAT far. I didn't. I would never. I'm so sorry…_

Spock broke the meld, but it didn't seem a loss when the Vulcan pulled him into a crushing embrace.

"_I_ am sorry. How could I have thought—?"

"Before you I was like that. You saw me kiss her, and we were both feeling insecure enough as it was. I guess anyone would have thought it. Even Bones did for a minute there." He paused, and though Spock probably knew from all the times they had melded over the years, he said something then that he'd never said aloud.

"Why do you think Carol didn't want me around? Why do you think she shut me out of her life? And David's? It wasn't just Starfleet. She couldn't trust me. I was young. I was stupid. I didn't know how to be exclusive and I didn't understand why I should. I loved her, but I didn't _understand_ love."

Jim pulled back enough to look his bondmate in the eyes. "I didn't understand it until I knew I loved you. And _that_ I knew before I knew anything about the bond between us or any…predestination." He paused. "I love you. I'm not perfect, but…I love you." He tried to smile, but he knew it came out half like a grimace anyway because the pain was still there even though they each understood it now. "Whether or not we'll ever be parents."

Spock let out a breath that sounded almost like a sob, and kissed him gently. Through the contact the bond continued to heal, but Jim knew there was still something between them.

"You're still protecting me," he whispered.

"The meld. You understand why I must…"

"I'll be all right, Spock. Just let me help you."

"Your mind—"

"Maybe you've got it backwards, Spock. Maybe my human mind isn't a weakness."

They both felt this loss. The loss of the family they could have had. Spock felt it much more deeply of the two of them, but he was Vulcan. As deep as the pain went, he would not cry. Even shivering in Jim's arms that night in sickbay so many years ago, after the hallucination that had sent him running to Gol, he had not really cried. Jim, because he had been a starship captain, always concerned for the example he set, and concerned with showing strength for his crew, for everyone…

Jim would not often cry for himself, and never much. But he was still human. He was still capable.

He brought Spock's fingers to his face again, urging him gently, and his bondmate understood.

_Are you certain?_

_ You shouldn't have to go through this alone. I should have been here sooner. I've known you long enough to know we'd get mixed up like this if we stayed apart. Let me help you. We can help each other._

Spock melded them again, more slowly this time, and this time he let the final layers fall. He let them share everything, even the pain, and if Jim thought he'd understood what Spock felt a few minutes ago, he understood so much more now.

His knees all but dropped out from under him. Spock held him tighter, and closer, and lowered them both gently to the floor without breaking the meld.

It was as intense as Spock had been afraid of, but it did not break him. Instead it was his human nature that let Jim endure it. Soon enough the walls had been demolished to enough dust that the fingers on his cheek were not required to continue the meld between them, as bondmates, and he pressed his face into Spock's shoulder and sobbed.

Spock held him as he cried for both of them, and any remaining tension between them leaked away with the tears.

* * *

The next morning the computer on Spock's desk chirped at an ungodly hour. Jim was the one to climb out of bed and lumber to the console, but any annoyance was gone when he recognized the call sign.

"Spock," he called drowsily. "Get over here. It's Bones."

The sound of a very human-like sigh came from the bed, but it was a composed Vulcan who stood, pulled on a robe, and came to his side. Jim smiled at him in amusement and squeezed Spock's hand between them before he responded to the call.

"What do you want, Bones?" They both knew what the doctor wanted, of course, but sarcasm was always easier.

McCoy raised his eyebrows at them. "'Bout damn time. God, you two could write the book on well-intentioned dysfunction."

"We were attempting to sleep, Doctor," Spock rumbled.

"We're heading home day after tomorrow," Jim added.

"Good."

McCoy smirked, and the transmission ended, leaving them alone again in the dimness of Spock's rooms.

Jim stood from the desk chair, and when he looked to his bondmate Spock was holding two fingers together toward him. "Shall we return to bed, my husband?" the Vulcan asked quietly.

Jim smiled with the peace that had returned to them, and met Spock's two fingertips with his own.


	12. Chapter 12

Wow. Okay. So the last month or two of school was a mad dash of tying to finish up and trying to pack up and find a job for the summer and get moved and then I ended up with a job in another state and had to move and get settled in here, and then find time to write. Yay.

ANYhoo, so sorry ya'll. I hope you'll forgive me and keep reading, and I hope you'll let me know what you think of the new chapter. Thanks so much for reading!

* * *

Chapter 12

2285

He knew who he was.

He knew his name, at least, but little more. He stood still as the monks dressed him, and the older Vulcan before him—not a monk—was the only one who spoke.

"Spock. Do you know me?"

He thought he did not, but he spoke the answer. "You are my father." Sarek. His father's name was Sarek, and his mother's Amanda. He knew that, as well. He looked about him curiously even as the monks pulled the hood of the white robes they clothed him with over his head.

He saw the small tightly knit group of humans at the base of the dais, and he knew…something.

"My son? Do you recognize them, as well?"

He hesitated. "Their faces are familiar to me. That is all. No names. I only sense that I am…connected to them, in some way." All of the humans were watching him, though they could not hear him from where they were. He turned back to his father, uncertain.

Sarek nodded once. "You are correct. They are…your friends."

Spock was intrigued at the word. There were very few distinct memories of anything at all available to him now, but he knew that he was Vulcan. He knew what that meant. Vulcans did not use such words to describe their comrades.

"My friends?"

"Yes, my son. They are human, and they cared for you. They returned for you in your time of need."

There were flashes. Red light. Urgency. Pain. Darkness.

"I…I have died."

Sarek blinked, and had he not known it impossible Spock might have believed he saw a spark of emotion in his father's face. "And you have been restored," the older Vulcan confirmed.

The monks silently urged them on. Sarek pulled away and Spock was led from the dais in the center of a loose formation. His mind working, he bowed his head beneath the hood and fought his memory to reveal itself to him.

For he would be all but alone in restoring it. That much he knew. Despite the lack of distinct memories now, he knew Vulcan principles. He knew his heritage. He knew tradition, and laws. He knew that it was considered healthier for the Vulcan mind to recover lost memories without being given information. What was recovered could be more trustworthy, in that way. It was logical, but there was so much confusion, now.

Why the humans? Why were they here? Why had they done what they had done for him?

He passed them, and their anxious stares he avoided, but there was a moment when he could not take another step away.

Spock turned back, and lowered his hood. The monks did not seem to approve, but it did not matter to him. He went back to the group of offworlders. They looked at him with eyes that contained such emotion, and he could not understand it. Yet he was drawn to them, to all of them, and past all of them…to the one at the end in the dirty red and white tunic who stared at him the most intently.

"My father says that you have been my friend. You came back for me."

The man flinched, almost imperceptibly, but he straightened. "You would have done the same for me."

His eyes. They way he said such a thing. It implied so much history, and yet Spock's mind was still all but a blank. He felt the force that drew him to this one, but it was so strong it seemed almost unreal. He swallowed. "Why would you do this?"

"Because the needs of the one outweighed the needs of the many."

It was not logical and yet he said it so seriously. Spock did not understand. He turned to go with the monks again, but when he took a step something hit him like a sledgehammer. It would not let him go, and he turned back to the man in red once more.

"I have been…and ever shall be…your friend." The words that came out of his mouth were 'your friend' but something within him echoed _yours_. Simply _yours_.

Now the human swallowed. He seemed disappointed and overjoyed at once, and Spock wondered why he was adept at reading human emotional expressions when he felt no emotion himself. When he should not. Because he was Vulcan.

"Yes. Yes, Spock," said the man in red.

More flashes, and more words from his mouth as if from a recording. "The ship. Out of danger?"

"You _saved_ the ship. You saved us all. _Don't_ you remember?" The last sentence was all but desperate.

Spock felt that. This human's pain…it hurt him. He tried to shake it from himself, and he could not. The part of himself that had echoed _yours_ reached out, to find something that was damaged now but very real, in his mind. A connection. To this man before him. _Mine._

He took a careful step closer, and the human watched him closely. They were all watching him.

He knew this man. The name came in an instant and with it a warmth he could not fathom.

"Jim," he said, as close to excitement as he would allow himself to come. "Your name is Jim."

Jim. Jim broke into a grin, and this time his eyes glistened. "Yes."

* * *

The three months that followed were not easy. Only Sarek and Amanda were allowed relatively full access to their son, as he re-trained his memory and his mind. Jim and the others were allowed to see him only under supervision. They were not allowed to reveal anything that they weren't certain Spock had already remembered for himself.

His knowledge seemed to return quite quickly, but the personal memories were harder to free. It didn't take long before Spock revealed that he understood Jim was his bondmate, but he said nothing beyond that. They didn't know how many of the details he knew and understood. Even though the monks allowed Jim to see him more often once Spock understood the nature of their relationship, even though they were sometimes allowed to be alone, Spock did not say much of what he remembered.

Spock offered his first two fingers together to his husband when they met, in the tradition way, in ceremony, in affection even, but his mind was blocked in the contact and it wasn't clear whether or not that was intentional. There was no other physical touch, and Spock's emotions seemed mostly shuttered. They had him back, but they didn't. Not really. Not yet.

"At least they don't keep you on so tight a leash with him now," Bones offered. He was trying to help, but it wasn't much use.

"What good is that when he won't talk to me?" Jim grumbled, rolling onto his back to stare at the ceiling. Sarek and Amanda had been gracious enough to offer all of them housing during their Vulcan exile. There were more than enough guest bedrooms in the family estate.

Amanda had told Jim that he was welcome to stay in Spock's rooms. It was where he usually stayed here anyway, with his husband, when they visited. And Spock was not here now anyway; he was locked away in the monastery during his recovery. But Jim was not comfortable staying in Spock's rooms without Spock, much less when he didn't know what his bondmate remembered. When he didn't know how Spock felt. When he didn't know…

So he was here, in a small, logically and sparsely adorned guest bedroom instead. The bed was hard, or maybe it was just him. He couldn't sleep, but neither could Bones. Thus the late-night powwow.

"Give him more time. He's got to put everything back together in there. I know it can't be easy," McCoy insisted gently. The doctor sat in a chair at the small desk a few feet away. "Had my own head scrambled not long ago, remember?"

"I know, Bones. I'm sorry. Thank you. I just wish…"

"I know."

And Jim knew he did.

"Bones…"

It was still so easy to be fine now. They were both still worried about Spock, and Jim knew that even if and when his bondmate was himself again, McCoy would never interfere.

But Jim didn't want that to turn into Bones pulling away entirely, and as quiet as his friend had been the past few weeks Jim was afraid of it.

"Don't, Jim. It's fine."

He sat up quickly, half glaring. "Is it?"

"Just get some sleep. Doctor's orders."

Jim wouldn't have done it if Bones had left. But he didn't. Somehow that made sleeping just easy enough to do.

* * *

Leonard sat in the hard wooden desk chair, and his mind drifted. The chair he was sitting in was faintly but tastefully carved, the wood stained dark. It wasn't extremely fancy or any such thing, but it was Vulcan artwork. It was not an import, and that meant it had to be worth quite a bit more than if it was. Wood was not a commodity found in great abundance on a desert planet like this.

It was a piece Spock would like, and he had probably seen it numerous times before. He probably _did_ like it. But there were many more pieces like it here, scattered about the estate. There were several in Spock's rooms themselves. Though Jim would know more about that.

Leonard had been in there once or twice, only while visiting his friends. Only after Jim and Spock were married. He didn't remember many details, but he remembered that it was more or less an expanded version of Spock's quarters board the _Enterprise_.

Spock's quarters aboard ship, of course, he remembered well; the way they had been during the first five-year mission, anyway. He'd spent a great deal of time there.

McCoy let out a breath. He stared out the window into the inky Vulcan night, and the color made him think of Spock's eyes. Those eyes that still were not quite right since opening again.

He remembered those eyes looking at him that first evening. When he awoke, and he knew Jim. He looked at all of them. He'd studied them. He'd lingered long, looking at Leonard. Leonard remembered smiling in amusement and tapping his temple in joking reference, but Spock had only stared. Intently. McCoy's heart jumped into his throat and he looked away and sank back, because he didn't want to give the wrong impression. Spock belonged with Jim now. He had said he wouldn't get in the way, and he'd meant it.

But the eyes and that soul-piercing stare stayed with him.

Here, now, Leonard closed his eyes.

It wasn't going to be easy. He knew that.

But he was here.

* * *

Spock was ready and willing to return to Earth with his human friends once they had refitted the stolen Klingon cruiser they arrived in. His functional memory was intact. He could be useful. And it was the right thing to do.

He still felt strangely detached from much of his personal memory, even though much of it was also in place…but he had enough access to his human half to understand what was right even if it was not logical.

He returned to his mother once more, before he reported to the ship. His father was already on Earth.

"What is it, Spock?" Amanda asked gently. "There's something troubling you, and you haven't been willing to tell me. Will you leave without telling me?"

"To be troubled is a human emotion."

A small smile played at her lips. "And you, my dear son, are half human. I recall a similar conversation only this morning."

"Yes…"

Jim was his bondmate. He knew he loved Jim. He had not yet learned once more how to express it, but he knew it even if it still seemed strange. Jim, his T'hy'la, the mate of his soul. He could deny none of this. He felt it to his core.

Why, then, did amused blue eyes haunt his memories?

"My memory…conflicts," he admitted vaguely.

"In what way?"

"It is difficult to explain."

His mother looked at him for a long moment, and for a moment he was certain she would give him the answer. He was certain she knew.

"Be patient, Spock," she said instead. "You'll understand. You have to give yourself the time to come to it." She paused, as if treading carefully. "Only…don't act, until you're certain. Until you know you understand. Will you promise me this?"

Spock blinked at her, and he had no doubts now that she knew exactly what it was she referred to. He wanted to know himself. But he nodded in answer to her request, and he did not ask again. To do so would be disrespectful of her wishes. He bid her farewell.

* * *

The voyage to Earth did not go as expected.

Indeed, it was quite a detour they took. It was an educational experience, among other things. Through their actions in the situation in which they found themselves Spock came to know again the companions and friends that he was remembering. Sulu, the brash pilot; Chekov, the smiling Russian; Uhura, the feisty communications officer and kind and feeling woman; Scotty, the happy miracle worker. His friends.

The doctor, who had been quiet on Vulcan, by the time they left the planet had come out of whatever shell he'd all but hidden himself away in during recent weeks, and fit once more the images that played in Spock's memory. Jim, his husband, his bondmate, stayed close to him but did not pressure him.

He cared for them all. He began to truly feel it, rather than simply know it. He knew it, too, in the twinge of jealousy he felt when Jim interacted with the human woman Gillian, in the Earth of the past they found themselves trapped in.

San Francisco. Their home. The city in which he and Jim had lived for much of their married lives. The city in which they had been through much together—triumph and failure, love and sorrow. It was strange to see it so differently.

Yet on the Klingon ship, he would walk past the doctor, and the blue eyes would smile at him, and Spock realized he saw more behind them than friendliness. Once, while he waited for Jim to return from taking the woman Gillian for dinner, to garner information from her, he and the doctor were all but alone. Scotty and Sulu were working to turn the cargo hold of the ship into a holding tank for whales. Uhura and Chekov were away, looking for a source of energy to recharge their dilithium crystals.

The bridge of the ship was empty, save for Spock himself. McCoy ventured there, saw him alone, and turned to go again. Perhaps he had been looking for somewhere different to be alone himself. So the doctor merely smiled in acknowledgement and made to leave.

"Doctor."

He said it before he was certain why. But he knew he could not let McCoy leave so quickly. He saw it again; what was hiding behind the doctor's eyes.

"You need something, Spock? Another joke or two to not understand?" he smirked good-naturedly.

Spock did not answer immediately. He only stood, and approached McCoy tentatively. He was not taller than the doctor by much, and yet he abruptly felt as if he were towering over him the way McCoy suddenly seemed afraid.

"Spock…?"

Spock did not want him to be afraid. It wasn't logical for him to be.

He wanted to say so. He wanted to speak, he could not now. _Doctor…McCoy…Leonard. Do not fear me. I…_

Care? What did he feel? The computer on Vulcan and then his mother had asked him that question. How did he feel? What did he feel?

He knew that is was pain he saw behind the doctor's eyes when he glimpsed beyond the mask. He knew he wished that it were not there. Jim's pain when he could not express the love that he knew was within him touched him deeply, but so did this.

Spock's hand reached of its own accord for the doctor's face, and when his fingertips brushed the slightly creased cheek McCoy pulled suddenly away, snapped out of whatever freezing trance he had been stuck in. He backed toward the bridge entrance.

"Spock, what's wrong with you?" he whispered loudly. "Stop it. You don't know what you're—you don't, do you?"

Slowly Spock shook his head. "No. I do not understand what it is that I am experiencing."

"Confusion. That's all. Memories you don't understand yet."

"Yes. Memories that seem to involve you, Doctor."

McCoy let out a heavy breath, and his mother's warning echoed in Spock's mind almost too late. _Don't act, until you're certain. Until you know you understand. Will you promise me this?_

"I apologize…" Spock began uncertainly.

"It's all right," the doctor interrupted. He was quiet a moment, and then he spoke again.

"Jim is your husband, Spock. You may not have all of your memories yet, or maybe you just don't understand them yet, but if you remember anything about trusting me, then trust me now: You and Jim belong together. Whatever else is in that jumbled skull of yours…it doesn't matter. Not anymore. All right? Just wait until you remember that._ Try_ to remember that. He's waiting for you, and he's doing a damn good job of it, but he's hurting. He needs you. The _real_ you."

There was silence again, that dragged on until Spock could form an appropriate answer.

"Then…I will endeavor to become myself again."

McCoy smiled in relief, and nodded wearily. "Well…I guess that's a start."

Then he was gone.

* * *

Leonard staggered to a stop out in the corridor and had to catch his breath before he could move on. A hand flung out for the cold metal wall and clung to a support beam for long moments as he tried to calm the inward shuddering.

He should talk to Jim. Warn him of what was going on in their stubborn Vulcan's mind. But now really wasn't the time. They had a crisis to avert. He would, if they made it back to their own time and saved the world and survived it all. For now he would just have to hope it didn't get worse.

Their situation here, though—trapped in twentieth-century San Francisco—_did_ get worse. They got the energy they needed to re-crystalize the dilithium and restored power to the ship, but Chekov came up missing—captured by twentieth century military and landed in a hospital after a failed escape attempt.

"Jim, you've got to let me go in there. Don't leave him in the hands of twentieth-century medicine," Leonard insisted immediately. But as much as he knew Jim wanted all of his people safe and sound, McCoy could see the hesitation. Saving Chekov now could expose all of them. It could doom the twenty-third century Earth they came from if it brought their missing to a crashing halt.

It seemed then that maybe Spock had at least listened to the doctor back on the bridge. He was the first to come forward and agree with Leonard, which likely would not have happened just twelve hours before.

"Admiral, may I suggest that Doctor McCoy is correct?" He paused. "We musthelp Chekov."

Jim's eyebrows went up, and he approached his bondmate. "Is that the logical thing to do, Spock?"

"No. But it is the human thing to do."

And it wasn't behavioral mimicry or any other such thing. This was Spock, or at least a piece of him, finally surfacing again. He believed what he was saying. He meant it. Gillian Taylor stood there looking back and forth between all of them, and she could never understand the significance of what had just happened. She couldn't know why Jim was smiling so warmly. Or why his eyes were suddenly not quite dry at the same time.

Leonard had to swallow himself.

"Right," Jim finally managed. He turned to Gillian. "Will you help us?"

She blinked. "How?"

McCoy cleared his throat. It was time to move on for now. "Well. We're going to have to look like physicians."

But even though he was speaking to the woman he was looking at Spock, and the Vulcan cocked an eyebrow at him. It was so familiar he nearly laughed right there, and he hoped it meant things were going in the right direction now.

* * *

_This is still crazy, Spock._

_I really do have to let you go, don't I?_

_ There are things I cannot tell you. You will have questions I cannot answer._

_I gave up 'everything' for you!_

_I didn't understand love until I knew I loved you. I love you. I'm not perfect, but…I love you. Whether or not we'll ever be parents._

_I would have married you, you know. It doesn't matter now, but I just…hope you know I would have done it._

_You told me once that feelings were like energy…never created or destroyed. Only discovered or forgotten, accepted or pushed away._

It was a strange sensation of waking, even though he had not been asleep. It had been that way the first instance in which they emerged from the time warp, but this time for Spock was different.

This time his mind was a jumble of memories and words and emotions and thoughts that were suddenly much more clear.

He suddenly felt…himself, again.

_Jim…Leonard…_

Not everything was in place, but he understood more than he had. The doctor was in the seat beside him, and when he looked at McCoy he felt the finally familiar tug…the echoes of sadness, and memory.

An entirely different pull made him look up, to the center seat, to Jim. In his mind the bright thread of their bond pulsed anew—still weak from their separation, but much more clear to Spock now.

The admiral was coming to his senses himself. Jim pulled himself up in his seat, clearing his throat. "Did breaking thrusters fire?"

Spock checked his console. "They did, Admiral." He swallowed, and Jim looked back at him abruptly as they both felt it; the beginning of their bond strengthening again.

But there was no time now. The darkening of the ship told them clearly that they were in the right place; they were succumbing to the effects of the probe.

What followed might have been a blur, if he were human, but he did not have that luxury. He was acutely aware as their ship went down in the bay, barely missing the Golden Gate Bridge. He was aware of McCoy, still beside him, shooting him concerned glances. He was aware of his worry when Jim left to free Scotty and Gillian Taylor and the whales from the cargo hold instead of abandoning ship immediately with the rest of them. Spock would have gone with him, but the admiral order him to stay and see to the evacuation of all other hands.

"He'll get them out and he'll be fine, Spock." It was McCoy, all but whispering as the Vulcan handed him up the ladder to the hatch and into the driving rain outside. Spock did not waste the effort in even raising an eyebrow at that. He needed to hear it, perhaps, anyhow.

Jim took too long to return. Spock climbed out last and clung to the ladder on the outside of the hull, and except for the head of the bridge much of the rest of the Klingon ship was already under water. Scotty and Gillian emerged soon enough, but there was no Kirk.

"Where's Jim!" McCoy demanded, having to shout to be heard over the wind and the rain.

"The beasties were trapped!" Scotty shouted back. "He went for the manual override! And god help him!"

McCoy opened his mouth again, but nothing came out. Scotty inched farther up the ledge on the outside of the hull, toward Uhura and the others, but Leonard hung back nearer to Spock. The two of them locked gazes over Gillian's shoulder, and there was even more there in McCoy's eyes than Spock expected to see.

He was still missing something. Something important.

_I know now, what was between us. How it ended. What more can there be?_

He could not bring himself to ponder it more now, when they were still waiting for his bondmate to surface.

_Jim. _

He could _feel_ Jim. Kirk had not drowned, so where was he? Were the whales free, or would _they_ soon drown? Would Earth be saved or was the home planet of his mother and his husband and friends doomed? Where was Jim? Not knowing was a vice in his chest, and a part of him rebelled, wishing to seek again the comfort of being fully Vulcan he had enjoyed his first months after being reawakened. The comfort of logic, and detachment.

No. He still had logic. Logic he would always have.

But he also needed Jim.

A flail of arms beside him in the water, and great gulping gasps, and Jim was there. Spock reached out quickly to take his arms and pull him in next to the hull of the ship, beside him, and there were no words for his relief. He said nothing now, with the crisis not yet over, but he could not deny that he felt it.

"Do you see them?" Uhura called from farther up the hull. She meant the whales, now that the admiral had returned. No one saw them yet. Then Gillian, who was helping him to reel Jim in, abruptly let go and pointed off into the water with an inarticulate shout of joy.

The whales. George and Gracie. Both humpbacks had finally surfaced.

It seemed an eternity, then, before they sang; before they answered the probe. It seemed an eternity before anything happened, or anything changed. Spock clung to his bondmate's arm, keeping Jim from having to work to keep his head above water. There was no more room for him to climb up on the hull. Spock himself was forced to hold onto the ladder with his other hand. Both hands were cold, locked, and he was soaked and freezing all over. As a Vulcan he felt it more than the rest of them.

"Why don't they answer? Why don't they sing?" Jim questioned desperately.

They couldn't have come this far for nothing. Spock considered the idea that this might be the end, and he did not prefer it.

He did not wish for his life to end now. It had only just been returned to him. He wished to be able to reconcile himself to Jim, and to the others. There was still much he had to learn, he knew now. He had more to accomplish. All of them did.

And then it happened. When the when sang, when the alien device answered and then began to withdraw the change happened quickly. It seemed unreal, how quickly the rains and the wind stopped, how quickly the clouds receded, and how quickly the sun began to shine. It looked like power was already being restored in the buildings on land they could see from here.

There was laughing and shouting around him then. Jim was slapping the water and hooting and howling with joy, and he pulled Gillian into the water. The others followed one by one, throwing themselves in or being thrown. Beside Spock even McCoy willing fell from the hull into the bay, grinning. Spock felt their relief and their happiness, but he was quiet. He stayed on the ladder to silently absorb that it was over.

The crisis was over, at least. New life had just begun.

He tried to climb farther up the ladder and out of the way as they waited for rescue, but Jim had other ideas. The admiral climbed out after him and tried to pry his hands from the metal rings.

"Come on, Spock! The water's fine." Jim laughed.

He had no desire to go in. The sun was helping quite a bit with warmth, now, but Vulcans were not fond of large bodies of water whether they were warm or not.

But his fingers were slippery and still somewhat numb from the previous cold, and Jim was powered by adrenaline. He had no chance. In a moment he was in the water and Jim was laughing still harder. There were screams from the others and more laughter, and Spock expected to feel annoyed.

He didn't. Instead his mind told him: _Home. _

This place, these people. He was home.

Jim gave in after a minute or two and drew in against the hull with him. They were still left to tread water. The ship continued to sink and didn't really offer many places to stand any longer, but there was shade here and it was easier to stay afloat braced against the side.

Jim grinned at him, they were holding each other's arms to stay together, and Spock drew in a sudden breath.

He wanted the last of the details in place. He wanted nothing else to hinder them. He wanted _Jim_.

The human's grin dwindled to something a little more serious when their eyes met, and beneath the water the fingers of one set of their hands tangled together. The two hands came up between them, pressed together palm to palm, and when Spock lifted his first two fingers up straight together out of the tangle Jim followed his lead. It resulted in something like the traditional greeting of Vulcan spouses, but for the first time since he woke on mount Seleya there was no barrier between them in the physical contact.

_Spock…?_

Jim's voice, tentative, and the breath nearly went out of Spock to feel that presence in his mind once more.

_You've come back to me, haven't you?_

_ With help, Jim. Help me. _

He should wait, but he did not want to. When his bondmate nodded minutely Spock brought his free hand from the water to press his fingers to the familiar pressure points on Kirk's face. He brought their minds together slowly, in case he was, perhaps, out of practice or still affected from the fal-tor-pan. He needn't have been concerned. They came together seamlessly, effortlessly.

What was easy about it ended there.

_I missed you so much. We missed you. _

Jim's feelings. What he saw when his husband lay there dying on the other side of the insurmountable transparent aluminum barrier, and what he felt. There was no way to soften the blow. _I thought I was going to die._

_ Jim. My husband. Oh Jim, if I could have spared you this pain…_

_ You did what you had to do. You saved us._

Other memories. What else had happened after. And Spock knew then that it was not his own memories he had felt he was missing. When he woke from the time warp every bit of it was intact. Melding with Jim now helped him to connect all of it—to make it the cohesive whole it had been before his death—but none of it was missing now.

It was McCoy's memories he had felt as if he was missing. The memories that had been made while his katra resided in the doctor's mind. He had them, and Jim's side of them being revealed to him jarred them free.

His chest clenched again, and he broke the meld as quickly as was safe.

"Jim," he gasped.

McCoy's memory. What Jim knew now. David.

Jim shook his head and drew in closer. "Not right now, Spock. Not now." Jim kissed him. Spock nearly did not respond, but then he did. He responded willingly, clinging to his bondmate and aching, hoping that everything, after this moment, was not already ruined.

* * *

Leonard wasn't as young as he used to be, and he was first to haul himself out of the water and onto what was left above water of the green hull of the Klingon ship. The relatively flat ledge they had been standing on was all but gone, so he simply sat on the rounded metal and pulled his knees up near his chest to give himself a bit more stability.

He was still smiling lazily. Most of the others were still enjoying the water and the end of the crisis, watching the two humpback whales surfacing not too far away. When he glanced down he saw Jim and Spock, though, not in the fray but in the shade of the hull—embracing in the water, kissing.

He was happy for them. His smile brightened. They were his friends, and it seemed that all would be right again. He knew that Jim and Spock together was the only way things could and should be, now.

But he had to look away anyway, and he would have been lying to himself if he tried to think his face was only wet from leftover rain and seawater.


	13. Chapter 13

I'm glad ya'll are still out there, lol, and I hope you enjoy this chapter too. I can't wait to hear from all of you and to know what you think. Thanks so much!

Chapter 13

Soon enough they were rescued from the water—a shuttlecraft sent their way as soon as everything was working. Aboard the small ship happiness turned to tension, and thankfully the woman who had returned with them from the past seemed oblivious. Gillian gaped at the shuttle, stared out its windows as they were swept toward Starfleet Headquarters, and stared at the Starfleet officers of various alien species that passed them in the corridors.

Jim remained close to him, Spock noticed, and he had no complaints. Gillian, though she stayed close to Kirk as the one she was most familiar with, understood now that there was something between the admiral and the Vulcan. She stayed close, but not too close, giving them their space. The Doctor kept up with her, keeping an eye that she didn't run into anyone or anything as she turned in place while they walked and tried to take everything in.

She stopped abruptly when the rest of them did, met in a likely purposefully empty corridor by Admiral Cartwright and several others. There were congratulations and thanks and other pleasantries, but after the emotions over earth's salvation were expressed everything else was clearly forced. Spock's perceptions had now returned to him enough that he understood _that_ easily.

Spock knew what would come next.

Cartwright spoke again finally, after everything had been strangely quiet for a long moment. "Jim…all of that being said…regulations are regulations. You know I have to put the rest of you in the brig until there can be proceedings."

Jim exchanged a pained glance with his bondmate, turned back to the higher-ranking admiral and pasted on a smile. "Of course." Despite Jim's usual nature Spock knew he was not going to argue now. What he and the others had done had meant too much to them for that. They would do it all again.

"I'm sorry," Cartwright said. "We'll um…get you all some dry clothes first, of course. You'll be fed. This is the Federation, after all."

"And we just saved the whole blasted planet," McCoy grumbled. But he gave Spock and Gillian a smile as the rest of them were led away by a security team that seemed to have appeared out of nothing.

Jim paused at his husband's side. "Spock…" At their sides their paired fingers brushed, and Spock felt only love through the brief contact. _You're right. I'd do it all again. Watch out for Gillian while we're stuck here, will you?_

Spock nodded slightly, and Jim smiled weakly and moved away.

Gillian, who had remained silent and confused, spoke up finally as the others were marched away.

"Wh-what? What the hell is going on? Where are they taking them?"

Spock let out a small breath, his eyes on Jim until he was out of sight around the corner. "There are things which occurred here before we came to your century. The Admiral and the others broke several laws and regulations…took many risks…in order to save my life."

"What are you talking about?"

"I have not been much myself since you have known me, Miss Taylor. That is being corrected. The importance of the matter is that there is a reason for it. It is difficult to explain."

The woman crossed her arms and sighed. "Long story, huh?"

"Indeed."

Gillian glared off into the empty corridor where his—_their_—friends had disappeared. "Will they be all right? What's going to happen?"

"I am not certain."

She looked up at him thoughtfully, and he wondered if she could sense that he was no longer the emotionally-shuttered, confused Vulcan she had met merely days ago. "Well. It's just you and me. I've got time for that long story."

It was not quite 'just them' as she said. Admiral Cartwright returned shortly, and there were reports and debriefings and Gillian's presence had to be explained. Spock was certain Jim and the others were being debriefed wherever they were being held, as well.

By the end of the day Gillian was obviously quite exhausted, and she and Spock were given guest quarters within Headquarters in which to retire. At first only one room was assigned, to the twenty-first century woman. Spock, however, did not wish to return home without his bondmate. He requested accommodations, and there was no argument about it.

He was not certain how well he would sleep. As a Vulcan, it was not absolutely necessary that he sleep every night in any case, so he was not concerned. Still, there was the issue of his newly regenerated body to consider. He had not yet decided whether or not to try to sleep at all when there was a beep at his door, and it was Miss Taylor.

"Are you asleep? I'm not asleep."

"It is illogical to ask if I am asleep when I am clearly standing before you."

Gillian smirked at him. "So you can't sleep either. You know, you're more normal than you seem."

She was perhaps much more right than she knew. Spock nodded silently, and stepped back to allow her inside.

"I'm worried about them," she admitted when the door closed. "And I don't even know what happened." She sighed. "So we're up anyway. How about that long story?"

This time he agreed. He was not as adept a storyteller as Jim, or as Leonard. He was still Vulcan. He was himself…and by now he really was himself. But as well as Gillian Taylor had helped them she deserved to know enough to understand why her newfound friends—the only people she knew or cared about in this century she found herself in—had been imprisoned.

She deserved to know something, and perhaps the old human maxim of 'talking something out' was not entirely without merit.

It was not something Spock would tell her, but in the end the fact that she was there that evening was, perhaps, helpful.

* * *

Demoted to Captain. He would have a ship soon. To Jim it seemed much more like a gift than a punishment. The others were safe, too. All charges but one against him alone had been dropped in light of the fact that they had saved the planet. Again. Everything had been done by the book—they'd all been in the brig at Headquarters until the proceedings—but nothing horrible had come of it.

It seemed unreal to be walking to the Headquarters transporter station with Spock, a mere two days after returning to Earth—going home as if nothing had happened. As if Spock had never died and Earth had never been threatened with destruction and the last six months had never happened.

Jim was happy, but there was a damper on it now. Spock had seemed animated enough taking leave of his father a mere half hour ago, before they left. Before they all went their separate ways for now, free to return to their homes.

Spock was quiet now.

The Vulcan stayed close to him to him until they were inside, where he broke off and went to the window overlooking the city. Jim sighed and pulled off his red uniform jacket and un-tucked and off-white shirt underneath. He kicked his boots off and everything ended up on the floor at the corner of the couch. He'd laid the jacket over the back but it slipped off. He was too tired to care right now. Just because he was happy over most of what had just happened didn't mean he wasn't feeling the exhaustion that the ordeal with the probe had brought.

He sat for a few moments, scrubbing at his face tiredly and waiting for Spock to come back to him. When he didn't Jim stood again.

"It's hard to believe we're home," he said.

There was nothing more than a quiet grunt in answer.

Jim let out a breath and approached him. "Spock…what's wrong?" He paused. "You told Sarek to tell your mother you 'felt fine.' Was that a lie?"

"Not a lie." Spock said it without turning, and the way he stood there with his hands at his back it really did seem as if nothing had happened. Before they'd left Vulcan his hair had been cut back to it's usual length and style, and right now he was still wearing his uniform from the hearing though the flap of the jacket was pulled down now. They could have been on the bridge of the _Enterprise_.

But the _Enterprise_ was gone now.

"My memory has returned to me, and everything that comes with it. I am now who I was before my death. It is therefore not any lie to say that I am 'fine.' However…fine is not well, and I cannot yet be well. There are things which will be different now." Spock finally looked at him. "Because of me we have much to discuss. We can no longer put it aside."

Jim snorted before he could stop himself. "Really? You did pretty well not discussing any of it the first fifteen years we needed to."

A flicker of pain on his bondmate's face, quickly concealed, and Spock turned back to the window. Jim felt it, too, inside himself where their bond rested in his mind. He felt awful immediately.

He groaned quietly. "I'm sorry…I didn't mean it like that."

Spock's gaze remained trained out the window on the city. "Part of you did." It was not a question. He knew, and so did Jim. "But your anger is warranted."

He didn't want to do this now. He didn't want to do it yet. But he had to answer that. Spock had to understand.

"Something like that you should have _told_ me, Spock. I _understand _that you were trying to protect me—both of us; Bones and me—but something like that…" He paused. "We're supposed to share everything…hold each other up. It's supposed to be a partnership. You're Vulcan, you're telepathic; you understand what that means, that we should…be one. But you kept this from me…this whole part of yourself. You kept it from both of us. You didn't let us share it…you wouldn't let us help you."

"You are right," Spock answered. "What I did to the Doctor's memory I did because he asked it of me…and because, at the time, he was right. It was the best thing that could be done. There was much that was too fragile at that time. I knew, however, that it would not always be the most logical thing. I knew that the past would need to come to light at some point in the future, and yet I never allowed it to. I was…afraid; content in the way we were and unwilling to risk change. It has affected us now in the way you and McCoy were forced to discover the truth, and the fault is mine. I'm sorry."

Jim took the Vulcan's shoulders and looked him in the eyes. "I know you are...I've already forgiven you, Spock. I had more than enough time to do that when I still thought I'd never see you again. Right now I'm just glad I have you back. So do we have to do this? For now can't we just—" He leaned up enough to kiss his bondmate. Spock responded, but not as much as he might usually. In the contact Jim felt the rest of the answer.

He stood back, and his hands slipped from Spock's shoulders down his arms.

"No…we can't, can we? Not yet." He swallowed again and gently let go. "You have to talk to Bones."

"You have been able to. I have not, and it is something that I must do."

Jim nodded slowly. "You're right…you're right. You should. I guess I was just hoping it could wait a night or two." He gave a small smile. "After how much I missed you, what we've been through…well, maybe I'm impatient."

Spock did not seem to miss the suggestiveness; he cocked an eyebrow and Jim chuckled softly. "Sorry." He moved away, rubbing the back of his neck as if that might make the strange feeling in his gut go away. He had moved far enough he was turned the other way when he spoke again.

"I love you. You know that. And apparently you saw something in me or you wouldn't have married me, bond or no bond. You're smarter than that. But…whatever I am, I'm human. I can be selfish. I want you to be…_happy_. Not just content. I want you to do what's best for you, but the truth is I married you because I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you." He paused, momentarily unsure if he could finish. "I don't want that to change."

His hands had twisted in front of him and he forced his arms to his sides. When he did, his bondmate's hand was there, on one of them, turning him around.

"Jim…I understand your uncertainty. I did not reveal something that was a vital piece of my past. My self. But I can assure you that it does not change everything that you have long known of me. You have known and understood me long enough to know that 'content' is the highest form of praise a Vulcan could use for his situation. I have told you this before. You know it. You know my heart."

Jim was ready to listen until that last. "Do I?" he snapped back. "Because I didn't know it loved my best friend, too." He tried to pull away and Spock would not let him go. Spock never did that. He never used his strength against his human loved ones. Only in help, if it was needed.

That was why he stopped trying to move, and he listened.

"You were correct about me, Jim. I would not have bonded with you if I did not have every intention of remaining with you—no matter the circumstances. There would not have been logic in it otherwise." Then Spock let him go, but Jim still didn't move. That was when the Vulcan gave him a version of that almost-smile. "There was still very little logic in it, but I believe you understand my meaning."

Jim let out an unsteady breath. He didn't realize he was shaking until Spock gently guided him to the couch and sat beside him, close and supporting.

"I don't want to lose you again. I don't want to lose either of you," he managed after a moment. "I just…I'm only angry because you took it all on yourself…and now…what we have, all three of us, may be in danger because of it. Can you understand that?"

"I do, and I am sorry."

Spock kissed him in apology, and Jim had to consciously remind himself not to cling or he would have. Strange. He wasn't usually the type, but he wasn't worried about it now. His husband had been dead. He was entitled to somewhat losing it for a while. He might be afraid there was something wrong with him if he _wasn't_ slightly unstable right now.

"Go on," he sighed, smiling a little. "Before I can't let you leave."

The Vulcan's forehead rested against his for a moment, and then Spock nodded wordlessly and stood.

"I'll…be here," Jim said lamely. He winced at his own sudden lack of eloquence, but his human weaknesses didn't bother a Vulcan who had grown used to them and loved him still.

Whatever else happened, he knew he would always have that. He knew Spock loved him.

* * *

The door slid open shortly after his summons, but for a long several seconds McCoy simply stared at him. Finally the doctor cleared his throat quietly and stepped back enough to allow Spock inside.

"Figured you'd show up sometime. Didn't expect you this soon."

The Vulcan's gaze was drawn briefly to the packed bags near the door. There was a sinking feeling in his chest at seeing them. "And yet you planned to depart shortly, I would surmise." He blinked at the bags, and then up at the doctor. He had to admit that perhaps a small amount of alarm crept into his voice when he continued. "Where is it that you planned to go on such short notice?"

McCoy waved off his worry and moved in a kitchen. Spock followed him. "I just need to get out of here for a while, Spock. Don't get your panties in a twist; I'm not going far. I'm heading home to Georgia in the morning. Might as well. It'll be weeks before they give us an assignment, anyhow." He picked up a class of water from the counter that had already been poured and was waiting. He knocked back most of what was left of the glass and set it down. "I need to clear my head, I guess."

At least it was only water, Spock noted. In similar circumstances in the past he'd found Leonard with substantial amounts of alcohol.

"You will return when we are assigned a ship, then," Spock said. It wasn't a question, but it was. It wasn't entirely logical to ask it when the doctor had already implied it, but he was already aware that his logic was faulty where Jim or Leonard were concerned. He had long since accepted that.

"That would be the plan," McCoy agreed. He shrugged and leaned against the counter beside him. He crossed his arms uncomfortably and looked away. "I uh…I can't promise anything right now, though…I just can't. I'm sorry." He cleared his throat again and straightened. "I should tell Jim that myself, and I will…I'll call him in the morning. He should be prepared in the uh…event he needs to be looking for a new chief medical officer this time around."

"I see," Spock deadpanned.

Leonard glared at him suddenly. "Don't do that."

"What, Doctor?"

"That thing where you act too Vulcan and pretend you're all right when you're not. God, you really are yourself again, aren't you? Stubborn, green-blooded—"

"Is there a point, Doctor?"

"Of course there's a point! You're here for a reason, so let's get to it. It isn't like I don't know what you have to tell me."

Spock stood stiffly until then, when he tried to make himself relax a bit. "It is not that merely wish to 'tell you things.' I wish to speak with you," he said gently.

McCoy made a face again. "What's there to talk about?" Abruptly any attitude was gone, and he slumped slightly. "I love you, all right? I remember it now. All of it. You know that."

"Yes. As I care for you."

"Fine. Wonderful. But there's nothing we can do about it, even if it's never going to change. You know that, too. I love you, but I can't have you. Ever. I care about Jim too much to even think it. Then even if you and me was otherwise possible it might literally _kill_ you if we tried. Nice predicament, isn't it?"

Spock understood the sarcasm, but it was an opportunity to point out that he did not take any of this lightly. "_I_ do not find it pleasing."

Leonard smirked weakly at that—almost a laugh. "No…I don't, either." He'd been keeping himself on the far side of the counter, and the doctor came out from around it now. He came closer, tentatively, stopping a mere few feet from the Vulcan and peering at him. "So what, then? What do we do this time?"

It took a moment before Spock could answer, as he stared back. "I would hope that you would remain in Starfleet, return when we are assigned a ship, and that you would continue to serve with us. I am not certain that an Enterprise captained by James Kirk would fare well without Leonard McCoy as chief medical officer."

McCoy's eyebrows went up, and he snorted in amusement. "Well that's for damn sure. How Jim manages to get into so much trouble I'll never know."

"Yet you would consider leaving the captain without your services?"

"I never said that! Right now I plan to come back; I told you that not five minutes ago."

"You are considering it on some level, or you would be able to give your word that you will return."

Leonard scowled again. "Now you're just being difficult on purpose."

"I believe—as you have informed me on multiple occasions—that it is one of my duties."

The scowl didn't last long then, and then the doctor was looking away once more. After an uncertain pause he was moving absently toward a cabinet that Spock knew contained what alcohol McCoy kept on hand. A gentle hand on his arm stopped him, and turned him around.

"Doctor."

McCoy stared at the floor for quite a while. When he looked up he seemed unhappy, but not at Spock.

"All those years…I should be different now. I _am_ different. I'm not really angry. Not anymore. I've watched you two together all this time, seen what you have becoming what it is, and I'm happy for you. I really am. It's good I was able to watch it happening and had my objectivity intact at the time, I guess. Makes it all clearer. So I don't…regret anything, and I don't blame anyone for anything. There aren't any hard feelings here, Spock."

The Vulcan still had his arm, and Spock watched him and remembered the pain he had seen behind the doctor's eyes before he knew what it was. Before his memory returned to him. Whatever McCoy said, even if it was not a lie it was not the entire truth. He understood that, however. He had practiced the same sort of subtle dishonesty in the message he asked Sarek to deliver to his mother. It was not wrong, but it was not right. Which…perhaps made it wrong.

"And yet?" Spock asked carefully.

"Yet what? It still hurts? I'm human, Spock. It's always going to hurt. I'm always going to miss you. That doesn't mean I can't deal with it."

"You are certain?" he asked again, concerned. He did not wish for Leonard to be in pain. If he could stop it, he would.

"What would you do otherwise? Offer to scrub my memory again? No, Spock; I'll be fine. I _wan_t these memories." McCoy smiled now, and though it was small it was more genuine in this instance than it had been in any other since Spock arrived this evening. "It may not be the easiest thing in the world to have them, but it's worth it. It's better than the alternative."

Spock realized he must have seemed troubled by that, because the doctor continued. "You did what I asked you to do. Thank you for that. It means a lot to me, now that I'm through being pissed off at you for being so damn stubborn since then. What you did saved us a lot of pain back then but now it's time to let it go. We're not gettin' any younger and we can't afford to avoid things we shouldn't be avoiding anymore."

Spock found himself nodding, because he agreed. He had agreed with that reasoning before he came here.

"See? You think so too. It must be halfway logical in there somewhere."

The Vulcan's eyebrows went up, in something akin to amusement. "Indeed." It was silent for several long moments after that, even though Spock did not really need to think to know what he should say next. He waited, he supposed, for McCoy's sake.

"You need not 'miss' anyone in the simple physical sense," he said finally. "You will never be unwelcome in whatever place Jim and I find ourselves." He paused. "It is also true that if you were not to return to service with us, I would be overly aware of your absence."

Leonard, strangely, laughed. "Thank you…for telling me that."

"You imply that I informed you of something beyond the fact that Jim and I do not wish to alter our friendship with you in any way."

The doctor's blue eyes shone in amusement the way they were wont to do—the way they had on the Klingon vessel, and Spock hadn't realized what it was then. Now he knew. Now he was pleased to see it. "You told me you still love me."

Spock's mouth opened, but nothing issued from it. He closed it again until he knew what he wished to say. Through it all McCoy simply watched him and smiled.

"Leonard, if there has been a moment since you regained your own memory when you have doubted that, I am sorry."

McCoy took an unsteady breath and looked away at that; the doctor's eyes were suddenly no longer dry. Then again, Spock doubted that his own eyes would be, if he were more human. As it was, none of this was easy. He drew Leonard closer, tentatively, uncertain of what the doctor would be agreeable to. McCoy understood, though, and leaned into his embrace willingly.

There were no words, for quite a while. There was just enough contact—a brush of hair here, fingers or a chin there—to feel the mingling of their emotions. It was enough to understand one another, without the words or any Vulcan bond as Spock had with Jim. To a large extent, they did not need even this. It was strange; as often as they bickered and insulted one another, even after their time together so long ago…they understood one another easily. Leonard McCoy had 'read him like a book,'—as the human saying went—from the early days of the _Enterprise_. Somehow Spock, too, understood this highly emotional human.

"You've melded with Jim," McCoy said quietly. "You know we're all right—him and me. You really have nothing to worry about. Jim shouldn't, either."

"I do not doubt what you say. I know it to be true, and yet I am concerned. For you."

"Well I don't know what else to tell you." Leonard pulled back to look at him, and he smiled again; that knowing smile that was…perhaps annoying? "It's called anxiousness, Spock. We've all experienced it." He shrugged. "Don't worry so much. You know even if I don't stay in Starfleet I'd never just drop off the face of the galaxy. I wouldn't do that to you, or to Jim. I'll be…somewhere."

"I am a Vulcan, Doctor. I do not worry."

"Sure, and that joke's not as old as dirt," McCoy laughed. Spock raised an eyebrow and he laughed harder. When it died out Spock found Leonard's hands on his face. They only remained an instant, and they dropped to his shoulders. "Never change, Spock. You don't have to anymore. You're who you're supposed to be. You're not human, and you're not Vulcan. You're both. You're you, Spock, just…and never be sorry for who you are."

It sounded too much like a goodbye, despite the claims McCoy had just made regarding not disappearing.

"Well I'd better finish packing," Leonard was saying.

Spock pulled him into a second embrace before he could move away, and the doctor did not protest.

He knew that they would not speak of the past again. He knew that when he released Leonard and left here he would be releasing what could have been. What had been would remain, but what was would be of more import.

It seemed McCoy was following the same thoughts. "I guess we'll never know how it might have been, will we?" he said quietly.

"If truly there are infinite universes, there is one in which we know."

Leonard laughed again, softly against his shoulder; likely thinking that was something of a romantic notion for a Vulcan, if Spock knew him at all. Because he knew he did, he knew he was right. It was only logical.

* * *

It was painful, to stand there in Spock's arms with part of him helplessly pretending it was more than it was.

But Leonard had not lied. Not once.

He would be all right. He knew how things should be now, and he had accepted it. It was only that he didn't know yet, if he would be able to come back. If he would be able to go back to whatever ship they were given and go about the old everyday business again. If he would be able to see Spock and Jim every day and be all right. He had been fine on Vulcan, fine during the crisis that struck on their journey home, but to go back to normal was different.

Then again, he wanted it. He wanted them all on a ship again, together, doing what they did best. What Command had done to Jim was a blessing, not a punishment.

But he couldn't give his word on any of it. Not yet. No matter how much he knew Spock wanted to be certain he would return.

At length the Vulcan released him, and before he could leave Leonard reached into his pocket for the small IDIC that was there.

"I still have this."

It lay on his flat palm. He didn't know if he should keep it. Spock needed to know the choice was his.

The Vulcan looked at it, memories behind his eyes, and when he looked up he gave a ghost of smile.

"It is yours. I merely safeguarded it."

Leonard nodded slowly and slipped the small medallion back into his pocket. When he looked up again Spock had hesitated at the door. He didn't leave until McCoy smiled back. Leonard managed it; it was weak, but it was real.

_Green-blooded hobgoblin…I really do wish you all the best._

* * *

The apartment was quiet when Spock returned home. The lights were dim, but not off, and when he had taken a few steps inside he realized Jim was asleep on the couch where he had left him.

Spock went to him and picked him up, and carried him to the bedroom. Jim woke up as his bondmate settled him into the bed. Hazel eyes blinked open and looked at him curiously.

"You needn't have attempted to wait for me," Spock admonished softly.

"I didn't want to come to bed alone; had enough of that after we lost you…"

Spock nodded in understanding. He pulled back only long enough to remove his uniform jacket and belt and boots, and returned to the bed. Jim settled in closely and wrapped his arms around him.

"Are you all right?"

"I am…all right," Spock answered.

Jim's hold on him tightened. "I'm sorry."

"_You_ are sorry?" Spock asked quietly.

His bondmate looked up at him searchingly. "For anything I did before, or didn't do…because I didn't know."

"Jim, that is hardly anything for which you can—"

"I know; I just _want_ to apologize. Is that wrong?"

Spock raised an eyebrow, and Jim smiled, but only briefly. "You told me there would be questions you couldn't answer…things you couldn't tell me. I thought it was only…Vulcan things, I guess, for lack of a better word. I had no inkling that could possibly have included something as…painful for you as this. I didn't understand. God, to think now of what you were going through then…"

Jim shook his head, almost angrily. "Was I doing it right? I don't remember. I know I just _loved_ you. I needed you. But was I giving you the support you needed? Was I just a burden?"

"No, Jim," Spock said earnestly. "That you could never have been."

"But was I helping you? All I'd ever wanted was to be there for you. I never wanted to make anything harder for you. I keep…going over it in my head—the beginning—over and over, and hoping I didn't do anything that just hurt you."

Spock shook his head slowly, and took a careful breath before he explained further. "Jim…you loved a man broken by fate. Yet even not knowing the extent of that truth, you did everything within your power to bring an imperfect situation closer to perfection. In your blind, loving efforts over the course of years it is your strength that has repaired me, Jim. Leonard McCoy helped me to become aware that I had a heart to give, but now it is because of you that I still have a whole one to offer. You are in possession of it because I wish for you to be."

"Spock, you were stronger than all of us…" Jim swallowed. "What you did…I couldn't have done it." He chuckled quietly in the dimness. "It's funny…of all of us, you're the one who wasn't…_supposed_ to love. If you'd never accepted your human half you wouldn't have. Or if you did you'd have ignored it. You tried to for a while, didn't you?" Jim kissed his cheek, and a hand stroked fondly over his hair. "But I think maybe you understand love better than the rest of us.

"Love is a choice, just as much as it is a feeling. Maybe more. Probably more. You_ chose_ to love, Spock. You didn't have to. You chose to love both of us, and to make sacrifices for us." He shook his head again, in wonder now. "And I thought I knew how lucky I was. I was wrong."

Spock didn't know how to respond to any of that. He didn't know how much he understood, or if perhaps he understood more of love than anyone else. In truth, as a Vulcan he had always considered himself lacking in such knowledge. All he knew for certain was how much Jim meant to him, and how much Leonard had meant and still meant to him. He knew he would give his life for either of them, and then he had.

Now he had that life back, and he did not intend to waste it.

"Vulcans do not believe in luck…though if I did, I would believe that perhaps it is I who is lucky."


	14. Chapter 14

I know this one's kinda short, but I wanted to get it up so ya'll would have something since I'm going out of town this weekend anyway and won't have time to write. So here ya'll go. Thanks so much for reading and reviewing! I can't wait to hear from ya'll! Couldn't do it without you either. :)

Chapter 14

Fire was everywhere. Fire and magma, and a sense of hopelessness and despair. An attacker who would not yield; the sneering face that had ordered the death of his son.

Jim was sweating. It was so hot he could scarcely think straight anymore.

"Dad!"

Dad? It was David's voice but David had never just…called him that. And David was dead.

He spun anyway, and David was there, shouting to him, wanting to help.

Then the ground shook again and the young man slipped into a newly opened fissure.

Genesis. Life, but death—new life that was destroying itself, that would kill them all if they didn't get away from it now.

"David!"

He didn't question the fact that his son was alive. He only knew David would be dead if he didn't save him now—if he didn't succeed where he had failed only hours earlier.

He ran. He fell, and scrambled, and ran again, and dropped to his knees where he'd seen David fall.

"Dad! I'm here!"

He was, hanging from a tree root over the edge that would soon break or burn through. The root was several feet down. So was David. Jim searched desperately for somewhere else to hook his own foot, or anything—anything to give him leverage to pull his son up and to relative safety.

It should have occurred to him that Kruge should have been hindering him in this, but it didn't. Kruge wasn't a thought anymore. Maybe he'd fallen or burned somewhere himself. Maybe he was dead. It didn't matter.

He grabbed at another root with one hand and down for David with the other. So close, but it might as well have been a mile between them. He inched farther, and finally it was enough. A blast of heat from the bottom of the fissure, and for a moment Jim was blinded but when he could see again David was clinging to his hand. Now they were both falling. The root Jim had wasn't going to hold.

It was the oldest cliché in the book. Maybe that should have set off some sort of alarm, too, but it didn't.

David was slipping, but when he fell it wasn't David.

"Bones!"

The fire closed in. There was no more time.

* * *

Jim woke trembling and sweating. His face was streaked with tears that he didn't remember crying, even in the nightmare.

_David…_

The pain hit him with blinding new force. He tried to shove it back and realized that he couldn't. Not really. He was still trembling and he had no control. The pain washed over him, and his worry that Bones wouldn't come back, and everything else he hadn't wanted to worry about for the past week—since he and Spock had returned home, and dealt with things, and begun to put themselves back together.

He also realized, then, that the other side of the bed was empty, and the bathroom light was on. He felt a pull there, the need to follow his bondmate, and through the haze a thought forced its' way to the surface.

_No control. The emotions…but…_

The need to know what was wrong and to fix it finally drove away the lingering fear and despair of the nightmare. Jim stumbled from the bed and into the bathroom. He heard the shower and found Spock huddled there under the spray of cold water. He hadn't bothered even to remove any clothing. His t-shirt and sleeping pants were soaked. The door was open and the floor was damp around the alcove. Jim reached in, fumbled to turn off the water and dropped to his knees at his husband's side.

"Spock? Spock, why are you in here? You don't have to be in here; you have me…" He reached for the Vulcan's hands, pulling them out from where they curled and rubbing his fingers over them to warm them.

Spock's breath was harsh. "I…believed perhaps it was…temporary malfunction…a confusion of my regenerated body…but…"

"It's real. I know. I can feel it, too."

Jim had to coax the shivering Vulcan into his arms, but then Spock leaned into him and was comfortable there. Jim ran his hands up and down his bondmate's arms, and he could feel Spock's breath quickening and feel his own blood rising.

"It is not time," Spock protested once more.

"There's no telling how old your body really thinks it is, if it knows at all. I guess we should have expected something like this. Besides, we only had another year to go this time around anyway, right? It's not that far off."

Through their contact he could feel his husband's anxiousness—his worry that there was more wrong. There was nothing to keep him from worrying. The Pon Farr had already stripped him of any emotional control. That quickly. Jim thought perhaps Spock was a little more affectionate or subtly emotional at times the last day or two, and at other times maybe more short-tempered. But it hadn't been as noticeable as the onset usually was, and it certainly hadn't been as long. Usually it was easy enough to see it coming a mile away if one knew what to look for.

"It's all right. You're fine. The doctors and scientists on Vulcans gave you a clean bill of health before we left. This is just…a side-effect. Everything's going to be fine. I know it came on quickly, but it's all right. I'm here. It's no different than before."

He couldn't say he wasn't at all concerned, but it seemed logical enough. Just a confusion of Spock's body about his physical age…Vulcan biological functions kicking in when maybe they shouldn't, at least this time, but it was nothing unnatural.

"I don't suppose we have time to go anywhere, do we?"

This would be their third Pon Farr as a mated couple. The first, after their marriage, they'd had Spock's rooms in his family estate on Vulcan to lock themselves into. The second time they'd gone out to Idaho, to his uncle's farmhouse.

They hadn't gone there since what happened three years ago. With Antonia, and the failed attempt to conceive a child that was theirs. They'd found other places to be alone when they wanted to be. Jim always assumed when Spock's time came again they would go to the mountains again; that had been nice. Or they would go to Vulcan. Normally they would have had enough time to arrange that.

Spock was shaking his head against Jim's shoulder now. They didn't have time to go anywhere. There was no way at this stage Spock could keep himself composed long enough for that. Even to pack, get to a station, and transport somewhere on-planet.

"All right…all right. I'll set the doors and lock the computers. We'll be fine here. It's all right. I'll be right back."

He didn't help Spock out of the shower. If he did that he'd have to help to get him dried off, and the Vulcan's soaked clothes would come off, and that would be the end of any chance he had of getting anything done for a few days. Spock understood when he simply transferred his bondmate's weight to the shower wall beside them and climbed out.

It didn't take long, thank god, to set the doors against allowing any sort of entry and to turn off even notifications for both the door and the computers. They would not hear of any messages unless they were of ridiculously high priority. Emergencies.

When he returned to the bedroom Spock was waiting for him. He'd managed to get himself up and somewhat toweled off, and he all but jumped the human as Jim came through the door. They tumbled onto the bed. Spock was already naked and Jim was certain he soon would be. He chuckled. His Vulcan's eyes were dark with need, but there was humor there too, now—now that they both understood there was no crisis here. It was unexpected here and now, but it didn't matter. What was life if one couldn't roll with the punches and enjoy the surprises?

If they ever needed this out of sequence, it was now. Jim wasn't complaining.

* * *

The first day or more was the tiring bliss it had been the first two times. After that it was different.

Their minds were on a constant basis closer than they were usually. It was almost a continuous meld, but not quite. Often they did truly meld. The Pon Farr was more than a physical need, after all.

Right now, it was good for them, but sometimes it wasn't. They had melded since Spock's return, and they had hashed through the issues they needed to hash through. Or they thought they had. They were usually good enough at such things, but maybe this was too soon. Maybe they really had been fine and it was only the heightened emotions they had no ability to control.

But things came to the surface. For two days after the first they shouted and argued and fought as often as they made love. Some of it mattered and some of it didn't. In _any_ case it didn't matter if they had already been through it or not. If it could be brought up, it was.

"How could you consider risking your life and your career and those of our friends simply for my life!"

"What kind of Vulcan are you using your telepathic abilities to alter memories! Isn't their some taboo against that? What the hell were you thinking!"

"I preserved our friendships! At the time such things were more important when anything else was uncertain."

"Uncertain?! I loved you from the beginning and you _knew_ it! Insolent bastard—"

"_I_, at the least, have never come in any way near to infidelity. The same cannot be said for _you_."

"You really want to go over that again? You're the damned fool who wouldn't just _come the hell home_! Damned Vulcan stoicism!"

"Logic—"

"Logic my _ass_! You want to talk about logic when you can't think straight yourself right now? Look at us. Screaming at each other! What the hell are we doing? We don't _do_ this!"

Then it would stop again, and they would make love again, and over and over and round and round. Different arguments, and the same arguments, all with the same result. They weren't getting anywhere because it had all been done and dealt with before, most of it, but maybe it was good just to do all of the shouting for once. It wasn't a usual thing for them. Sometimes Jim wondered if Bones's life philosophy of yelling at people when he felt like it wasn't healthier. At least it usually kept things out in the open.

By the fourth day or so the heatedness has burned itself out. Jim woke from their short rests more often than not with tears on his face again. This, at least, he was used to. It was never easier to cry than during this time. It had happened before. The first time he cried for Sam and his sister-in-law, and the time he and Spock lost because of what happened on that last mission—pent up emotions of years.

"Your son is dead…because of me…" Spock managed, in a more lucid moment.

Jim looked up from where he was huddled against his bondmate's chest, and this time there was a tear track across one side of the Vulcan's face. Just one. This, too, had happened before. Spock was half human. Even in the throes of Pon Farr he wasn't inclined to simply cry, but this had happened before. A few simple tears.

He reached to wipe away the dampness and to kiss his Vulcan's cheek where it had been.

"Not because of you. David died because the Klingons wanted Genesis. It isn't your fault."

"He died protecting myself, and Saavik."

"That was his choice. I think he loved Saavik. He almost told me, once."

* * *

When the haze began to clear Jim didn't know for certain how long it had been before it all began. He only knew the familiar feeling of the fog lifting.

This time, though, it was different. He could think clearly now, but there was still…something. It wasn't over. Not entirely. The closer bond to Spock remained, and it seemed troubled.

The chronometer by the bed had been on the floor where it fell for days. He leaned over the edge to find it and confirmed that it had been almost six days now, since the night the Pon Farr began. That was a usual length of time. What was it that tugged at him?  
Jim shook his head to clear it further. He was about to turn over towards his bondmate when a pained gasp came from behind him. As a result he spun too quickly, was dizzy for a moment, and had to clear his head again.

"Spock?" he asked anxiously. "Spock, what is it?"

The Vulcan was half curled in on himself, facing away, but at his husband's voice Spock twisted slowly onto his back again and swallowed. "I do not know…"

He was sweating. That was usually strange for a Vulcan, though not in Pon Farr. This, however, did not seem like the effects of Pon Farr. Spock had confirmed as much by what he had said.

Jim asked again anyway, because he didn't want there to be a crisis now. He'd had enough of crisis. He didn't know if he could handle another crisis. "What do you mean you don't know? Do you need me? What—?"

Spock shook his head stiffly, jerkily. "No. I—it is not the Pon Farr. I…no longer burn." The breath he took between sentences was labored, and he did not seem especially willing to admit what he said next. "There is pain."

"What kind of pain? Where?"

"Not a place…just pain." He gasped again, more pronounced this time.

Jim was beginning to panic now. Or he would have if he weren't trained not to. He climbed out of the bed as quickly as he could, snatched a robe flung over a nearby chair, and came around the bed to his husband's side. "What do you mean it's not a place? You can't mean it's everywhere?"

He knelt at the side of the bed, and when he did Spock turned on his side again. It was clear he was trying to force himself not to curl up, but he was doing it to some extent anyway. Jim's heart beat faster, and he realized he was afraid. _What's happening? What's wrong with him? Oh god, I lost him twice; I can't do it again. I really would die._

"Spock?" he questioned again. The Vulcan hadn't answered yet.

"Jim…something is wrong," Spock said then, instead if an answer. And it had to be true that the lingering effects of the Pon Farr were still preventing him from using any Vulcan techniques to control any pain, but even if he could have done that he would not have said something were wrong unless he were certain it was.

"What can I do?"

"I do not know." Spock tried to shake his head. He stopped instead and closed his eyes tightly.

"All right…all right, I'll call someone. Just hold on."

"Leonard…"

Jim was already halfway to his feet, and he paused. "What?"

"Leonard…Doctor McCoy…"

He hesitated. "Is that a good—is it all right to…?"

Spock nodded minutely and was silent again, apparently trying to control his breathing now.

Jim didn't ask anymore questions. He hurried out into the main room to a computer console and beeped for the line to Bones's family home in Georgia. Not that there was anyone there now save for Bones himself. There's hadn't been for a while, as far as Jim knew.

He waited for what seemed like forever, and for a frightening moment he was certain McCoy wasn't going to answer. The fears returned. There were other doctors, even plenty of other doctors here on Earth who had experience with Vulcan physiology. But as much as he complained about it, there was no one who knew more about Spock himself than Leonard McCoy. And Spock, of course, was different. He wasn't only Vulcan.

Besides all of that, Jim wanted Bones to pick up because he just_ wanted Bones to pick up_.

"The hell, Jim? It's a perfect afternoon for a walk and you catch me on the way out the door. This had _better_ be good."

His throat clogged when Bones was suddenly there, on the screen, glaring at him in that mock annoyance of his that looked impressively not so mock at all.

"Bones…god, you have no idea how glad I am to see you, but that's not why I—something's wrong. Something's wrong with Spock. I-I need you. We need you."

That brought the doctor up short immediately, and he was all business.

"What do you mean wrong?"

"I mean he's in pain, and he shouldn't be. It's nothing he can identify. It's no_where_ he can identify. I don't understand it, either. I've never seen him like this. Except maybe at Deneva, but he has no control right now so it can't be as awful as that, thank god."

"Why doesn't he have any control?"

Jim made a face, and glanced down at the robe that was all he was wearing. Thankfully he'd remembered to tie it before running out here. "His body was…confused, maybe, from being regenerated. We don't know. But he went into Pon Farr a few days ago, and we were fine until it was wearing off—then this. I don't think it's related and neither does he, but it's not helping, either."

McCoy just stared at him for a few seconds, trying to take all of that in. "Damnit…all right. I'll be there as soon as I can," he said finally.

Jim relaxed a little—enough for it to be visible, at least, he was sure. "Thank you…Bones…"

"Don't get wishy-washy on me, Jim. Just take care of him until I get there."

He opened his mouth to answer, but a brief shout came from the bedroom. It wasn't much, but it was enough to shove his heart into his throat. On the screen Jim saw movement out of the corner or his eyes as he looked quickly toward the door. When he glanced back Bones looked as pale as he felt.

"I—" Jim began.

"Go. I'm on my way."

The transmission cut off from the doctor's end and Jim was back in the bedroom before he was aware he'd moved.

"Spock?" There was a new moan from the bed, and Jim climbed back into it and gathered his bondmate into his arms and against him. "I'm here…and Bones is coming. He'll be here as quickly as he can. You know he will. Should we really just sit here, though? Shouldn't we take you somewhere?"

Spock shook his head against Jim's shoulder, and the human held his Vulcan more closely and worried. "I love you…"

Nothing they'd said in the heat of the Pon Farr mattered anymore. It had hardly mattered then. There was nothing more to be said now, other than the truth; the truth that they had been to hell and back and they'd been shaken and cracked, but they weren't broken.

The answer came in Jim's mind, certain through the pain and anything else. _I love you, Jim._


	15. Chapter 15

Hey ya'll. I'm back, and I got this done so ya'll wouldn't go crazy...really sorry about that. Anyway, I hope ya'll like the chapter, and I can't wait to hear from ya'll! Thanks so much!

Chapter 15

Leonard gathered what he needed as quickly as he could, and probably broke a few speed regulations taking his aircar to the closest transporter station. He didn't notice anymore anything about the weather he'd been appreciating only a little while ago. The beginning of the sunset was beautiful, but he didn't care now.

It frustrated him that even with all of their technology—technology like transporters he didn't entirely trust, at that—it still took him more than half an hour to get back to San Francisco and to Jim and Spock's apartment. He only had access to civilian channels just now, after all. It could have been instantaneous had he access to a ship in orbit, but he didn't. Not now.

He thought how having one's mind race wasn't really a cliché; it happened. It was happening to him now. The only thing that came to mind as he tried to understand what might be happening to Spock didn't make any sense. The Vulcan had been with Jim, not…anything else.

Still, he worried. Leonard worried and he ached and he wished he could reach inside himself and turn everything off, but he wasn't a Vulcan. The idea that _they_ could was really a myth anyhow. What Spock had done those years ago hadn't turned anything off. It hadn't gotten rid of anything. All it did was bury it all, and not forever. So there was no point in wishing that. It was never going to happen, and wishing would never help.

No one answered the door of the apartment when he rang, but that didn't surprise him. The door snapped open for him after the second ring, but no one was on the other side.

"Jim? Spock?"

A call of 'in here' from Jim echoed by a faint moan brought him to the bedroom. He tugged his medical tricorder out as he went, and found human and Vulcan on the bed. McCoy stopped inside the door, but only for a moment—enough to take it in and steel himself. Spock looked awful, half curled against Jim's shoulder as he was; Jim hardly looked any better from the worry on his face, dripping from his posture.

"I'm sorry," Leonard said quickly. "Stupid civilian transporter stations…"

But Jim smiled at him faintly anyway, because Jim knew how much he still hated transporters even as often as he'd used them. Still he'd come. Leonard just nodded and moved in with the tricorder and medical scanner, having been anxious since the call to know what the hell was going on. Maybe he was still a little out of balance over…everything. But he knew he did not want anything to hurt Spock. He didn't want that in any way, ever. He didn't want Jim hurt either, for that matter. But curled there, both of them were hurting.

"Well?" Jim asked. He didn't sound any more patient than McCoy felt. On the contrary, he was clinging to his bondmate while an exhausted Spock attempted to look less affected than he apparently was.

Halfway here Leonard's conscience had finally moved aside enough for him to think straight—to formulate some other hypothesis. Even then, he'd only manage to conjure up one other possibility. He hoped to god he was wrong, and he expected to be.

The only thing was, he wasn't.

Though that didn't mean it made any sense.

"My god…what the hell?" he muttered. He had an uncontrollable urge to smack the tricorder in hopes it would give him a more understandable reading.

"Bones?" Jim all but shouted. "What? What's going on?"

Spock shifted. He tried to sit up and he failed. He moaned again and settled in Jim's arms. Leonard watched Jim make a face at that, and winced himself.

"Bones?"

The doctor took a steadying breath. "Look…this is gonna sound bad, but I think I can fix it, all right? I can stop it. I'll just need a little time—"

"Bones, _what is it_? I'd like to know why I've been sitting here holding him for almost an hour."

"Jim, I am—"

"You're far from fine; be quiet."

Leonard's eyebrows went up when Spock gave a weak almost-smile at that—before the expression collapsed into a half-repressed grimace.

"Bones…"

"I don't know how it happened, but somehow his cells have become unstable again—like they were on Genesis, only less severe. You're _aging_, Spock—not rapidly, but faster enough than normal that the continual changes within your cells, and your body as whole, are painful. It's not natural; that's why it hurts. Usually none of this happens fast enough for us to feel it."

He couldn't help but flash uneasily back to Genesis—the flames and the noise and heat and the shaking ground—and Spock, mindless, crumpled on the ground screaming as his body reshaped itself in minutes from that of a young teenager to the age he was now.

"What?" Jim barked. "But how is that possible? Those Vulcan healers told us he was just fine, physically; that he shouldn't have any problems. He was fine. I don't understand."

"Perhaps…the intense emotion of the Pon Farr…" Spock trailed quietly.

"How could that do it? Just because you're a Vulcan doesn't mean—"

"It might," Leonard cut in. "Damned Vulcan logic…every scan told them he was fine, so of course there was no logic in wasting time or anything else devising any way to be certain his regenerated cells would remain stable. And now, obviously, they're not. As closely as the Vulcan mind is tied to the Vulcan physiology who knows what the hell can happen. Maybe I'm just surprised it took this long for something to happen."

Jim was half frozen, mouth open. "But…then…then what? What do we do?"

"There's nothing _you_ can do, Jim. _I _need to take a few samples of his blood and get the hell back to my lab. I think I know what I need to do here…but I won't know for certain until I can make a more detailed analysis. And then it'll just…take a little time. A day or two, maybe. I'm hoping not more."

"Is he in any immediate danger?"

"No, but he will be if something isn't done," Leonard huffed. "It'll probably get worse." He snapped the tricorder shut, replaced the medical scanner attachment in its holder, and began to dig out sample vials and a hypo. Usually he was far more organized, but he'd been in a hurry. He still had everything he needed, and there would be more equipment in his lab at Starfleet Medical across the city.

"Doctor…how quickly, to be precise, has my aging accelerated?" Spock asked then. For a moment there was silence; from the look on Jim's face it seemed that was the detail he hadn't really wanted to know.

McCoy swallowed a bit. "I uhm…I don't know, Spock. It's hard to tell from just a tricorder scan…"

"A…guess, then."

Leonard almost smiled. Almost. It wasn't so long ago he sat on the edge of Spock's console in their stolen Klingon ship, urging him teasingly to learn to guess. To remember how.

"It may take a day or two for you to gain something like a year, and it may only take several hours. I'd say it's…something like that, though. I can't really say more. Determining those specifics is less important than stopping it."

The Vulcan grunted quietly in thanks and nodded once in understanding. Jim, for a brief moment, seemed that much closer to panic just before his commander's instincts reeled him back in again and his face straightened. Instead of panic, then, it was anger in his voice.

"You're telling me he could lose _years_ before—!"

Leonard lashed back against the painful, worried tension he was feeling himself. "He's a Vulcan, Jim! He's got plenty of them."

He didn't really mean that, of course. This bothered him just as much as it did Jim, but he didn't take kindly to feeling accused. Jim, of course, didn't mean to make it sound that way. They both knew these things, but they shouted anyway. It was something they'd long ago accepted in each other.

"That didn't stop him from dying before!" Jim growled now.

"Jim…Doctor…"

Spock tried to get up again. Maybe it was that he didn't want them to argue, or may it would have gotten worse anyway but his breathing rate was increasing to compensate for the pain. Leonard reached out to help catch him before he could collapse again, and this time he indicated to Jim that they should just lower him to the pillows. Everything in Leonard twisted because he hated seeing Spock that way, because there were unpleasant memories he was flashing back on, and he knew he would never be entirely done with loving this stubborn Vulcan no matter what he told himself.

"Spock?"

They were both calling to him. The Vulcan's eyes fluttered and his voice rumbled softly as he tried to answer them. "I…I am…"

Jim swallowed. "Can you do anything for him now?"

"I can knock him the rest of the way out. That'd be about it," McCoy had to admit.

"That is not necessary," Spock spoke up, a little more clearly now. The Vulcan didn't say any more than that, but his fingers found Jim's sleeve and closed around the fabric, and the meaning was relatively clear.

Jim looked up, gave the doctor a helpless glance, and sighed. "All right…"

Leonard took the samples he needed, and then tugged his friend from the room for a moment. "I'll do everything I can…as quickly as I can."

"I know, that, Bones. I know you will."

"Just stay with him. Take care of him. It really will get worse before it gets better, probably. Not that it'll ever get better on its own."

Jim nodded wordlessly, obviously distracted and for good reason. Leonard left then, while he could, because he had a job to do. He left an extra hypo with a sedative on the kitchen counter on the way out just in case, and went.

* * *

Jim was lost, for a little while at least. When he shook himself back to his senses Bones had gone, and he felt badly that he hadn't said anything more. He wanted to apologize. He wanted to thank him.

Bones would be back. He would have his chance. For now all he could do was what the doctor had asked him to do.

Spock seemed more calm and coherent when he made it back into the bedroom. Jim laid down close beside him, and the Vulcan turned his head.

"How are you doing?" Jim asked quietly.

"Control returns slowly…Soon I will be more able to…make it easier to bear…" Spock answered haltingly. Jim knew what he meant. As the effects of the Pon Farr receded his mind returned to him. Soon he would have at least some control of his mental abilities, if he wasn't beginning to already. Now that the panicked adrenaline of several minutes ago at Bones's announcement was wearing off, he could feel it too. He could feel the heavy bond of the time of mating weakening further, and returning _him_ to fuller awareness again as well.

Maybe it had been less than two hours since they woke to this, but already it seemed an eternity.

Jim nudged his feet beneath the blankets and pulled them over himself again. He found his bondmate's hands clenched against the mattress and took them, pushing closer until their foreheads brushed. In response Spock turned more into him.

"I'm here," Jim murmured. "Are you sure you don't want something? I think Bones left a hypo on the counter if you decide you want it. Just…until you can do more yourself…"

"No…"

He wasn't simply being stubborn. There were reasons he didn't wish to be unconscious now, and Jim understood that. "Okay…"

They were touching. Spock could feel his thoughts and his worries, and he didn't attempt to meld in his current state but Jim could feel him react to them.

"Would it be so awful for the length of my life to be not so different from the length of yours?"

Jim blinked. "What?"

"You do not wish for my life to be shortened…you worry that something will change…that a more drastic increase may occur before Doctor McCoy can halt the acceleration."

"Of course I'm worried! You're a Vulcan…damnit, Spock; you're only fifty-five! That's not even really middle age for a Vulcan. That's nothing. You're supposed to have closer to two hundred years, not one, like us...like humans…I want you to have that time."

"For what purpose?"

That question brought him up short for a moment, and he didn't like this conversation at all. "Because…you're supposed to have it. You deserve it more than anyone I know, Spock." He knew it meant he wouldn't be here for much of it. He was only human. He could still have several more decades, but that could still be scarcely half of his bondmate's lifespan.

They'd known all of that. They'd discussed it before…or rather pointedly _not _discussed it.

"The things you could do with it…I don't know. Maybe I feel like you're supposed to make a difference." He paused. "More than we already have, I mean. More than me…"

Spock blinked in confusion, like he didn't know how to respond to that. "I am not certain that I share your convictions…"

Jim huffed in tired amusement. "It's all right…you don't have to, to make it true. If it is, I'm sure it'll happen anyway."

Still the Vulcan's frown deepened instead of easing, as if he had something to say he wasn't sure he _wanted_ to say. "Jim…"

"What is it…?" he urged gently.

"It is not important." Spock let out a breath and grimaced again. He shuddered, just enough for Jim to worry. He held his bondmate in closer and closed his eyes.

* * *

Leonard McCoy did not sleep for three days. He called Jim every few hours to check on Spock, and to keep them updated on his progress. Thankfully there wasn't too much change, and eventually the Vulcan was able to control much of the pain on his own. Still, it didn't seem like either of them of were really getting any sleep, either.

It took longer than Leonard thought it would. Then again, though the danger wasn't as imminent as it could be the stakes, still, were high. He had to do this right. He couldn't bring himself to really sleep but he rested, to keep himself alert. He couldn't afford to screw this up.

The thought of anything happening to Spock again was…

He'd meant what he said before. He couldn't stand to go through that again. He knew Jim couldn't, either.

Part of him was afraid, when he started, that he was wrong. That he would fail. He and Spock had failed three years ago to find a way to give Jim and Spock a child of their own, and he was afraid he would fail now. He was not nearly so confident as he had led Jim to believe in the interests of keeping them all sane.

As he sat slumped at his desk catching a quick nap on the second day, it did not help to catch sight of a certain storage tape sticking out from under a stack of PADDs. A tape he'd nearly forgotten about; research from the project on Vulcan three years ago. It was research he'd gone back to in the recent past, wondering again if perhaps there was possibly something they had missed. It seemed cruelly unfair that there wasn't a way.

Then, of course, Spock was dead, and there had been no point anymore. Except that now he wasn't dead.

He would be again, though, if something wasn't done.

Leonard growled quietly to himself, shoved the tape in a drawer, and went back to work.

* * *

It took more than three days before Bones returned to the apartment, but as little as Jim understood what was happening himself he didn't blame the doctor for needing the time to find a solution.

It was the middle of the night when the bedroom door slid open. Bones had called not long ago, and Jim had kept the volume down on the computer console. In the bedroom, Spock had finally reached a level of control that allowed him to slip into an uneasy sleep. It was better than nothing, and Jim didn't want to disturb him. He told McCoy to just come in when he arrived, and went back to the bed when the call disconnected.

"Jim?"

He sat up and quietly ordered the lights up a small degree as Bones came in.

"Huh," the doctor huffed softly. "He really did manage to sleep. Thank god."

"You've got it?"

"I've got something." McCoy went around the bed, and there was already a hypospray in his hand. When he injected it Spock opened his eyes tiredly. "Hey…"

"Doctor?"

"Yeah…and hopefully I did my job."

The Vulcan raised an eyebrow at that, and looked for Jim. Jim squeezed a shoulder to let his husband know he was right there.

"How quickly should it work?" Jim asked.

"The…discomfort seems less…" Spock ventured.

Bones smiled in relief, and glanced at his tricorder. "Seems it is already." He scanned the readout more extensively. "It'll be a few hours before your cells are entirely stable again, but after that you should be fine, Spock. I think it's doing what I wanted it to. It's working."

Jim released an uneven breath. "Thank god…" he leaned closer to kiss his bondmate's forehead in relief, and he didn't realize Bones had disappeared until he straightened again. "What…? Bones?" He glanced at Spock again. "I'll be back."

He was not going to miss his chance this time. He hurried from the bedroom to find McCoy halfway to the front door.

"Bones, _wait_. Where are you going?"

The doctor paused and turned back. "You both need sleep, Jim. I'm getting out of your way. And make sure you both eat something if you haven't. You probably haven't. Especially Spock. He needs to get his strength back.

"All right, I know—"

"Then what?"

Jim tried to think of something appropriate to say, and nothing quite fit. He was glad Spock was all right, and he was just glad Bones was here, and there was so much more. He closed the distance between them while he tried to think, and his friend watched him skeptically.

When he still could think of nothing good enough to say, he threw his arms around McCoy instead. Bones returned the embrace more quickly than he'd expected. It didn't last an overly long time, but it said what they couldn't articulate.

"Thank you," Jim said finally.

McCoy nodded. He smiled a little, and then motioned toward the door. "Like I said…I ought to get out of your way for now."

"Sure…just come back," Jim agreed. He was much more serious than joking, but the doctor still smiled again, and it was a good sign. It was more the Leonard McCoy he was used to.

When he turned around after the front door of the apartment closed again, Spock was in the door to the bedroom.

"What are you doing up? You shouldn't be up yet."

"Doctor McCoy did not make that stipulation."

"Well I did." Jim went to him and helped him to the couch. He wanted to get him right back to bed, but he supposed the Vulcan probably was tired of the bed. _He_ was tried of the bed.

Spock actually leaned on him, which told him how worn out he really was. Jim lowered him to the couch cushions at the end and sat beside him. Spock slumped, and Jim frowned and studied him in the light. Whatever small amount of years he had or hadn't aged it wouldn't be nearly enough to matter to a Vulcan. His fears had not become reality. If there was any change it was his imagination, and he knew that. That didn't make him any less concerned.

"Are you all right?" He touched a weathered cheek, and his bondmate nodded into his touch.

Jim chuckled quietly. "You could use a shower. We could both use a shower."

Swept eyebrows went up. "Yes."

The human chuckled again, but neither of them got up. Not yet. There would be time for that once they'd really rested, and for now the couch was good enough.

* * *

Leonard walked home to his city apartment with a smile on his face, planning to go back out to Georgia in the morning and bring the rest of his bags home.

The week or more before Jim first called him had been nice. He'd needed the time to himself, but it was time to return to reality. Tonight he didn't know how he could have considered not coming back.

Well…yes he did. Part of him was a coward. He was afraid to face what it would be like; the three of them working together again now that they all knew the truth about the past.

He realized now, though, that he was more afraid of _not_ facing it. He was more afraid of never seeing Spock, or Jim…because they were his family. They were all he had, but that wasn't _why_ he needed then. There was Scotty, and Nyota, and Hikaru and Pavel, but the friendships he shared with them weren't the same as what he had with Jim and Spock. They would never be.

So when Starfleet called, he would be there beside them. There was a future to face, and he wasn't going to miss it.

He wasn't quite ready to whistle or any such thing, but maybe there was a silent tune in his head as he walked. He was still smiling to himself as he reached into a jacket pocket to check on the tape there that he'd brought from his desk.

* * *

Leonard returned the second day after he had left. Spock called for him to enter from where he sat at his desk in the corner of the main room.

Jim, for his part, was asleep on the couch. The doctor's eyebrows went up in curiosity at that as he came in. "Is he all right?"

"He is resting. It became the better part of two weeks in total during which he did not receive proper sleep. He is still recovering."

McCoy perched on the arm of a chair at the edge of the living room arrangement that left him facing the Vulcan at his desk. "Should I come back later?"

"You may, though you are also welcome to remain here now."

"Aren't you working? You look like you're working. I suppose I should have called first."

"I am merely reviewing Starfleet protocols. Supposedly my memory has returned completely, but it is prudent to be certain."

"I see. Maybe I should be brushing up myself."

Spock raised an eyebrow. "You have made your decision, then?"

The doctor only shrugged in answer, but with the small smile he gave it was more than enough.

"I am…pleased."

Leonard laughed, and behind him a yawn came from the couch. The doctor turned, and they watched Jim sit up on the couch.

"Good afternoon, Captain," McCoy teased.

"Bones?" Jim was still rubbing his eyes. "Oh...good; there you are."

"Did you need something?"

"No…just saying." Jim yawned again and straightened. "You know what we should do?"

"What, Jim?"

"We should go camping."

"We should _what_?"

Spock watched them bantering—his bondmate and his closest friend, the equilibrium between them all well and truly returning to normal. He realized he very much looked forward to being in space with them again. He had not known until this moment how much he had missed that in recent years. If there was ever such an appropriate time to return to their roots, it was now.

"I'm serious. It'd be fun. I've always wanted to camp somewhere like Yellowstone, or—oh, Yosemite! I think I'd like to take a crack at El Capitan…"

* * *

Jim still thought camping was a good idea, but now it would have to wait until their first shore leave. There hadn't been time. Now they were back in uniform, back at Spacedock…about to find out what sort of ship they'd been given and where their lives were going now.

It was hard to determine the general mood in the cabin of the shuttle as they followed a guide to their post. Normally they would have been informed of their assignment officially, before now, but apparently Command thought making them wait like this was fun.

Bones stood with his arms crossed. "The bureaucratic mentality is the only constant in the universe. We'll get a freighter."

Sulu grinned from behind Scotty. "With all respect, Doctor, I'm counting on Excelsior."

The engineer turned on him incredulously. "Excelsior? Why in god's name would you want _that_ bucket of bolts?"

Jim shrugged from the front of the huddle—all of them gathered around the wide front port of the shuttle. "A ship is a ship."

Scotty shrugged. "Whatever you say, sir. Thy will be done."

He looked back at Bones. He exchanged a glance with Spock between them. They looked at each other. The three of them, at least, seemed of the same mind. As long as they had a ship, as long as they were out there together; it didn't really matter, did it?

Jim smiled to himself, though it froze in place when suddenly it seemed they were headed straight for the ship Sulu had wished for. It didn't make any sense…and there were incredulous looks around the cabin until the shuttle angled up and over the Excelsior's hull.

None of them expected what waited for them on the other side.

A Constitution-class ship. None had been made in years, but it was the most recent line; that meant it was bigger than the original Enterprise even though it shared the same basic design.

That would have been more than enough, but this ship had been refitted and rechristened.

The words USS Enterprise NCC-1701-A shone across the saucer section.

Jim couldn't swallow his grin, and the sense of a full circle nearly overwhelmed him.

"My friends…we've come home."


End file.
